Rewired (The Progress Series) Page 12

  She walked toward the balcony and looked through the glass, and saw Jesse standing in the courtyard.

  Running down the steps, she raced to the back door and swung it open. It crashed against the building just as another clap of thunder roared. The rain was coming down in sheets, and Charlie immediately put her hands up over her head. She ran to the edge of the grass and stood.

  Jesse was standing in the middle of the storm. The rain flicked off his shoulders and hair, creating a fine mist around his body. He stood looking down, not aware of Charlie’s presence in a pair of gray sweatpants and light gray T-shirt. The water had soaked every stitch of his clothing, and his shirt clung to his torso.

  “Jess?” she called.

  With the rise and fall of his chest from his breathing, he moved only slightly, acknowledging her without looking up. “You shouldn’t be here, Charlie. You shouldn’t want to be here. I’m fucking crazy.”

  “Shh.” She approached him and cradled his face in her hands. “I want to be here.”

  He shook his head slowly. “Why?” he asked, his voice monotone. Steam was rising from his warm body as the cold rain collided with his shoulders. He licked his lips, catching the water that had pooled in the divot under his nose.

  Charlie was now drenched. She shivered and covered her shoulders, trying to disguise her frown. “Come inside, please.”

  He looked up to the sky, shaking his head. “No.” His body trembled as he reached his hands outward, inviting the lightening to strike him.

  “You had it all, Charlie. The career. The guy. The future. The life.” He swallowed. “And I took it all away.”

  Slicking her hair back, her hands rubbed along her face to the back of her neck. And as Jesse remained unmoved, she wrapped her arms around his waist and guided him to the ground.

  “I still have all those things.”

  Sitting in a puddle of mud and grass, Charlie held him in the courtyard, trying to rock him to comfort in the middle of the fierce rainstorm.

  *

  After convincing him to go back inside, Charlie went straight to the bathroom and turned on the shower. “Here. Take off your clothes.”

  Even something as simple as removing his shirt looked to be difficult for him to handle alone; sluggishly tugging slowly at the sleeves, he tried prying it from his chest. Charlie walked to help him so he could retain some dignity in his struggle. She lifted his shirt over his head with his entire body limp. Never having seen him look so weak, she kept her head down so he wouldn’t see the look of worry covering her face.

  Then she removed his sweatpants and boxers. Steam had accumulated in the bathroom, and she checked the water temperature quickly to make sure they wouldn’t get burned. She put her hand on his back and pulled back the shower curtain. After he stepped inside, Charlie removed her clothes and joined him.

  Lathering the soap in a washcloth, Charlie then took her time removing the mud and grass from his body, watching it swirl around the drain. He continued to stand unresponsive as Charlie washed his back, stomach, and arms. She grabbed the shampoo and slowly massaged it into his hair.

  “Move back,” she quietly requested.

  His body eased back into the stream as the water rinsed away the lather.

  “Let’s switch.”

  She moved around him and quickly washed herself and shampooed her hair. After turning off the shower and peeling back the curtain, she grabbed two towels. Once she was done drying herself, she repeated the same for Jess.

  “Let’s get into bed,” she said.

  His eyelids were heavy and the weight of his own body made him lethargic, but he managed to make it to the mattress in the bedroom. She crawled in beside him and covered him with the sheet.

  “Do you feel any better?”

  His only response was a slow blink.

  “Is it always this bad?” she asked.

  He nodded.

  “How… I mean, why?” she whispered.

  “This shit doesn’t need a reason, Charlie. It just is.”

  Hoisting himself up to a sitting position, he tried to formulate words. And as he began, Charlie realized that within twenty-four hours, the speed in which his thoughts traveled to his mouth had gone from fast-forward to slow-motion. “It’s like this…the dark thoughts just come,” he whispered, trying to coordinate his thoughts with his lips. “Whether my eyes are open or shut, they flood into my eyes and my ears and all I can see and hear are things that scare the shit out of me.” He paused, trying to steady his head. “Shit from my past. Shit from my future. You leaving me. You staying with me. My sister. My mother. My father. Other things.” His voice was strained, as if each word escaping through his mouth took a part of his mind with it. “They bounce in and out of my head and I have no idea how they got there, and after all these years, I still can’t figure out how to make them go away. And when my mind is consumed with all of these horrific sounds and images, nothing else is as important. Showering. Putting on underpants. Eating.” He managed a shrug. “It’s not as if these things are unnecessary, they just aren’t something I consider. And then there’s the thought of surrounding myself with other people; that’s a fucking joke. Because they see it. I stop making sense and I can barely keep up with my own thoughts. My body stops moving, but my mind continues. I can’t concentrate, I can’t focus. I try to talk myself out of it, but that only adds to the frustration of it. Then panic sets in.” His brow furrowed, appearing as though he was recalling a previous event. “Who saw me? Is Charlie going to leave once she sees this? Who did I piss off? Who did I disappoint? Did I take my meds? Why do I need to take my meds? Did I brush my teeth? When was the last time I called my mom? When was the last time I slept? Did I pay my rent this month? Is Charlie going to leave me and run back to Sam? I’m drowning in that goddamned ocean again and I can’t remember it. I can’t remember what happened from the time my head went under until the time I woke in the sand. And it’s important, right?” He turned his head toward her. “It’s gotta be important. How can I lose so much of what has happened to me, and so much of what I’ve done to other people? Is it stored somewhere in my head and going to surface again the next time I’m like this? Will I ever get those minutes back? I can’t hold onto it long enough. It slips right through. If crying were an option, I would. Same with laughter. But everything is stuck, and as soon as I feel like I should be expressing some kind of emotion, it slips again. Gone.” He tried to snap his fingers, but his elbow wouldn’t carry the weight of his forearm. “Then I come back to thinking, is Charlie going to leave me like the rest of them? She should. It would be better for her. And I wouldn’t have to live with the guilt of knowing what I’m putting her through. But I want to keep her. I want her to crawl inside of me and stay—”

  “Shhh. Come here. Stop this.” She curled her arms around him and wedged her arms underneath his to pull him close. “I understand.”

  His chest was barely moving now; succumbing to the exhaustion of the conversation, he couldn’t even lift his arms around her.

  “I’m scared,” he whispered.

  She nodded and sniffed. “I know.”

  Chapter Four

  And suddenly she was trapped. It had been building inside her since she had cheated—the guilt, the remorse, the grief, and the depression. Charlie woke the next morning with Jesse in her arms. He hadn’t moved all night. His neck was cranked to the side, resting up against the wall, and his arms were still limp at his sides. She slowly nudged him downward and tried to maneuver his body flat. Once his head was on the pillow, she lay down beside him, still exhausted.

  Glancing out the window, Charlie saw the sun shining in through the blinds. Knowing well that Jesse had to work again that day, she still couldn’t bring herself to rise and find a clock.

  Come on, Charlie. Get up. You can’t let this infect you. Thought you’d be so strong, didn’t you? You thought that bringing him closer would help him, somehow soaking in the strength you had for both of you. Well loo
k at you now: busted and wasted.

  He’s pulled you back a decade. You remember. You remember what it’s like. He’s right, there isn’t a choice. It’s not just in a mindset to decide you can be happy, and just be. It ebbs and flows and you have no control on the course it takes. You just have to float with it and hope you surface once the tide settles.

  Maybe he’s just too much for you to handle. The good times are great—better than great. You get shit done, you’re motivated, you’re good. But this? This is beyond debilitating. You don’t even want to get up and make a cup of coffee. See, this is what you get for being empathetic. You’re fourteen years old again and want to pull a blade down your arm to make it go away.

  She turned and looked at Jesse. His body was completely still and his face relaxed. She could almost feel the energy he was building and storing for the events of the day. If he woke up for it.

  After turning over twice, she slothfully made her way to the couch and turned on the TV. Glancing at the clock, she saw that it was past ten. Remembering Jesse’s work schedule scribbled on a sheet of paper attached to the fridge, she walked into the kitchen and noted that Jesse was already an hour late.

  Skulking out from the hall, Jesse mumbled “Good morning” with as much enthusiasm as he’d had the night prior.

  “It’s after ten. You’re late,” said Charlie.

  He nodded and looked at the clock. “And you were always so worried about my potential. Tell me, Charlie… What would happen if I had a real job? Hmm? Can’t very well be a lawyer or a doctor or a fucking accountant like this, can I?”

  She closed her eyes in realization.

  He walked to the couch and lay down, picking up the remote.

  “Are you gonna go?”

  “I already called in sick.”

  He was sucking the energy from her. Maybe it was because she always felt like she understood too well what he was going through, or her own depression could have been catching up with her, but she couldn’t stay in that apartment if she wanted to be productive.

  “Do you need anything? I’m gonna go,” she said, grabbing her purse.

  “Where are you going?”

  “Home.”

  He didn’t respond, and Charlie walked back to her apartment.

  The shower helped cleanse her state of mind, but she still felt a part of herself getting ripped apart—a delicate shale exterior slowly chipping away, anticipating an inevitable snap in half. She couldn’t help but be catapulted back to a time in her life she dreaded most. Knowing depression well, this whole thing with Jess was only springing her toward a familiar darkness.

  She picked up her phone and dialed her mom.

  “Hello?”

  “Hey, Ma. Can I see you today?”

  “Well, well! If it isn’t my daughter who never calls, never writes…”

  “I know. I’m sorry. I’m on vacation from work now, and I was hoping we could grab some lunch or go for a walk. I’m trying to regroup a little.”

  “Of course! I made some of your favorite split pea with ham soup yesterday, you know? The one with those little egg dumplings you like so much?”

  Charlie felt her shoulders relax. “Sounds perfect.”

  *

  “I’m glad you came over today, dear. There’s something I wanted to talk to you about,” Karen said.

  “What’s that, Ma?”

  “Well with your sister getting an apartment in the city now that she’ll be working for that big architectural firm, and with you and Sam paired up nicely in the apartments…”

  Charlie’s stomach flipped at the thought of having to tell her mother what she’d done.

  “…I was thinking about selling the house.” After seeing the terrified look on Charlie’s face, she continued quickly. “I know it won’t be easy. You were raised in this house, but it’s just far too big for me. I really don’t need all this space, and now that Billy’s gone, I just don’t see the point in having to maintain a three-bedroom home.”

  Everything is changing. What am I supposed to do if I don’t have this house to come back to? As it is, I could still get in major trouble if anyone found out I was sleeping with a resident. I’d lose my job. I’ve already lost my future husband—because I don’t think I could ever marry Jesse, even if I was someday able to love him like I do Sam. Everything is falling apart, and now Mom wants to sell the only piece of comfort I’ve ever had?

  “I think you should do whatever you feel is right,” Charlie said.

  “Really? You wouldn’t be upset?”

  Charlie shrugged. “I mean, yeah I’d be sad. But this is your life. You need to be happy. I’m not going to stop you from doing what you need to do.”

  Life is moving forward for everyone, so why do I feel like I’ve taken a thousand steps backward?

  “Oh, honey. Thank you so much for understanding!”

  Charlie took a spoonful of her soup and tried to swallow it along with the lump in her throat.

  “So what was it you said on the phone… Oh yes, you’re trying to regroup. Is work really busy right now? And how is Sam? You two haven’t been over for dinner since April! I’ve really missed you two,” Karen said.

  “We’re…” Charlie hesitated. “Fine,” she said with a tight smile. “Yeah, work is always busy.”

  And that was all Charlie could bring herself to say about it. The chaos that had always been there when Jesse was a part of her life was something she didn’t want her mother to worry about. And she certainly wasn’t able to bring herself to speak about what she had done to Samuel. So once again, she buried it. She let it sink to the back of her mind, somewhere near the bottom of her heart, and let it fester—like she had done with the rest of her life’s failures.

  “Is that the New York Times crossword?” Charlie asked, pulling the newspaper closer to her and studying the clues. “Stuck on any of them?”

  *

  The day passed slowly. With every step that Charlie took, it depleted her energy for the steps that followed. Being hit with everything within a month had drained her of her confidence, self-esteem, and will.

  She returned to Jesse’s apartment later that evening, hoping to see him awake and doing something. But as soon as she stepped into his apartment, she saw that he was not only in the same position on the couch that she had left him earlier that morning, but now there was a full sandwich plated on the coffee table and a two liter bottle of Coke that was filled with what could only be described as piss.

  The room smelled like an ashtray, and that’s when Charlie walked closer to the couch. On the table rested a half-empty bottle of Jameson, his pipe, and a small bag of weed.

  Please let this end soon. This weekend has already been planned. It’s never gonna work if I can’t say the right things to get him back to normal.

  “Have you eaten?” Charlie perked up, disciplining her woefulness.

  Jesse rolled over on the couch and his arm bounced lifelessly off the cushion, pointing to the sandwich on his plate. “I tried.”

  “We have to get you out of this…this thing that’s weighing you down. I mean, what is it that you usually do?” she asked.

  He shrugged. “Nothing. Smoke, drink, sleep. Do whatever it takes for the time to pass.”

  She knew a suggestion wouldn’t help, but it would at least get him talking. “What about thinking about all of the positive things in your life?”

  He rolled his eyes. “Positive? Really, Charlie? Yeah, ‘cause I have so much of that right now.”

  “Oh come on!” She tried to stay as playful as possible. “You’re such a free spirit. People would kill to have the will that you do. You’re beautiful and bright. You’re one of the smartest people I’ve ever met. You’re dangerous, mysterious, and intriguing. Not to mention your talent for music.” After seeing a spark in his eyes, she tried to keep up her momentum. “I mean, look at you, you’ve made it through twenty-eight years of—” she paused and looked down, “of a horrible and confusing life…”
Looking back up, a smile rose to her face. “And you’re still strong. You didn’t quit. You’ve persevered through some of the craziest shit I’ve ever heard. And you’re brave, Jess. So, so brave. I can’t even tell you—”

  Jesse shook his head and propped himself up to a seated position. He brought her face to his and his lips grazed hers before she had noticed that he was leaning into her. His hands played with the hair that fell to her neck as his nose grazed from her lips to her ear.

  “Stop talking,” he said between nibbles.

  She could feel herself submitting to him as her breathing changed and tingles raced up her arms.

  “Don’t, Jess,” she said breathlessly.

  “Don’t what?” He blinked slowly and the corner of his mouth lifted.

  She retreated and leaned back. “Don’t do this. Not now. It’s so obvious, can’t you see?” she whispered.

  He shook his head and confusion furrowed his brow. “What? Can’t I see that you’re putting me up on a pedestal again?”

  “You’re doing whatever you think you need to in order to avoid talking about this, including that last jab.” A small, sympathetic smile arose. “I’m trying to tell you all of the wonderful things I adore about you, and you’re not listening. It’s almost like it’s more painful to hear the good than it is to tell me about all the bad.”

  He huffed. “It’s fucking useless, Charlie. Can’t you see that? I’m not gonna get past all this shit.”

  “Just keep trying. For me?” she pleaded. “Look at it this way: no matter how many mistakes you make or how much of a fuck-up you think you are, you’re still miles ahead of those who don’t try; you’re miles ahead of where you were just a few months ago. You need to start giving yourself some more credit. But, ‘put you on a pedestal?’ No, I’m sorry that I don’t. If I would have known how far I’d have to go into your mind, I would have never gotten into your car.”

  He sat back down on the couch, completely exerted.