Let's work on the rental instead.
Weren't you listening? Dad said we need to take more responsibility.
That would be responsible!
We can't keep putting this off. We're going to crack.
Going to? What do you think happened today?
He picked up the book again, feeling a tingling in his trembling fingers. He started looking for the Rigby section, only to realize that the new phone book was no longer organized by city. He shook his head. Clearly, he hadn't used the thing at all since it came. He flipped to "R."
Of course, it had to be "R." Stupid letter.
He closed his eyes and bit his lip, then, heart pounding, he opened his eyes again and ran his finger down until he came to the entry for "Rojas, Jairo and Beatriz." He dropped the book like he had been burned and stood back, his heart pounding in his ears.
Oh shit. No excuses now.
He ran his fingers through his hair and started pacing. How was he going to do this? Was it going to happen tonight? He checked his watch. 7:13. Still plenty early. He continued to pace, reciting the lines he had been working on all school year.
"Hola, mi nombre es... Charlie. ¿Puedo... hablar con Marisol? Yo estaba en la escuela con ella."
He paced more frantically. "Hola, mi nombre es Charlie. ¿Puedo hablar con Marisol? Yo estaba en la escuela con ella."
It didn't sound right. He wasn't ready. He WASN'T READY.
He stared at the phone book. He walked out of his sitting room and through his blue curtain, then turned around, staring at the curtain. The curtain wasn't blue anymore. It was red. Bright red. He shook his head and backed away, bumping against the pellet stove. He threw himself on his bed and stared at the stars on his ceiling, wishing he could escape to Mars and leave everything behind. His dad's words kept echoing in his mind.
"You've got to start taking responsibility for your actions!"
Charlie's clothes started tightening around him. He peeled his shirt and pants off, but his throat still felt tight.
He felt sick to his stomach. He rushed to the bathroom and knelt over the toilet, but nothing came out. He stood and glanced at himself in the mirror. He was scrawny, weak. There was no way he could go through with what he had to do.
He didn't dare look at the curtain again. He turned back to the living room and sat on the couch, head in his hands. He looked at the phone book and thought of her, wondering if she would condemn him. Or would she forgive him?
Either way, he had to get past this.
He thought of the weeds that had overcome the family garden. The weeds that had choked him all year. This was it; he had to end it.
Charlie picked up the phone book, but dropped it again. Maybe he... needed to be stronger. He dropped to the ground and started doing push-ups.
"Hola, mi nombre es Carlos."
ten
"¿Puedo hablar con Marisol?"
twenty
He started gasping.
"Yo estaba en la escuela con ella."
thirty.
He collapsed and rolled over, starting to do sit-ups.
"Marisol, I'm so, so sorry."
Ten
"I was an idiot."
Twenty.
"I didn't mean to destroy your life."
He lay back on the floor. Ugh! It sounded so lame! How to tell someone you didn't mean to ... fuck up... so bad. But how to explain that he didn't know how ugly it all would get? He should have known!
Charlie groaned. This was going to take more than physical strength. This was going to take...
Charlie reached his hand into his shorts, almost hoping that they weren't there. At least maybe he'd have an excuse. But they were there. They seemed... firm. But maybe they weren't working right after all. That would be an excuse, wouldn't it?
Charlie rolled over on his stomach.
After a few minutes, he rolled back over on his back, breathing heavily. How could he possibly apologize to her? What could he say that wouldn't make him sound like a shithead?
Nothing.
He sighed. It was true. Nothing he could say could make him sound like he had been a shithead. Because he was. He'd have to own it.
Charlie jolted as he heard the back door close. His mom called down the stairs, "Charlie, I'm home!"
Charlie felt himself go calmer. Maybe it was time to finally tell his mom first. Maybe... just maybe... she'd know what to say.
Charlie stripped off his boxers and headed to his bathroom, tossing them in the hamper. There was a reason he'd started doing his own laundry a few years ago. He wiped himself down with some toilet paper, then flushed it, hoping that the smell wouldn't give him away. He headed back to his bedroom, avoiding looking at his curtain, and pulled his underwear drawer open. He grinned a little. No PE tomorrow. He could wear the fun underwear again. He started sorting through the fun side, still gifts from "Underwear Gwama." The name stuck, and so did the gifts. His mom had suggested that maybe he could mention he wanted something more... mature... for gifts, but although Charlie felt he had to act annoyed, he secretly enjoyed the fun boxers, even though it had been awkward providing his size every year, then explaining when he had switched from briefs to boxers, but it was worth it. He frowned when he got to the bottom. No Superman? But then he remembered he had worn them last Saturday. He scowled. What had he been thinking? He definitely needed those ones tonight. And... tomorrow.
Charlie brushed the thoughts of tomorrow aside and picked out a pair with "Master Splinter." Not as impressive as the man of steel, but he'd have to do.
Charlie slipped the boxers on, grabbed his gray sweatpants and sweatshirt from his bed, and slipped them on as well. If he was going to be miserable, he may as well be comfortable.
Charlie headed back upstairs, grabbing the phone book as he passed through his living room.
Laura was in the kitchen heating up a TV dinner for herself when he entered the room. She looked drained. He gave her a hug. She hugged him back. She kissed him on the forehead. He squirmed as was necessary, even though he enjoyed it.
"Hey, Charlie. How was your day?"
Charlie bit his lip and looked down. Wishing he could just let it all out. All of it. It would feel so good to just... get it all out.
Charlie looked up and saw the dark circles under his mom's eyes, the slumped shoulders. The circles a little darker, the shoulders a little more slumped than usual.
He sighed and shrugged. "Long."
Laura looked at him closely, then looked away. Clearly, something was bothering him. She hoped he'd open up when he was ready, but she couldn't remember the last time he had done so. A year? Two? More? Did she even... know who he really was anymore? He'd become so withdrawn. She sighed and pulled her ravioli out of the microwave.
Laura peeled the film off her dinner. "I've got to go check on Mrs. Galloway in a bit. Do you need anything before I go?"
In her mind, she pleaded, "Can you please tell me what's bothering you?"
Charlie shrugged. "No, I'm ok. I found something to eat already." He paused. "Oh, uh, the spare key was gone when I got home."
Laura tilted her head. "What did you need the spare key for?"
"I, uh, forgot mine." Charlie stammered.
Laura paused, hoping he'd elaborate, but he looked away. "I put it away. There's a kid who just showed up a while ago. He's been wandering around town a lot, doesn't go to school. Maybe I overreacted, but I don't want to take any chances."
Charlie scowled.
Great. The lawnmower boy got me locked out of my house.
Laura studied Charlie for a moment, then glanced at the phone book. "Oh, I'm sorry. Do you need to make a phone call? I'll take this to the front room."
Charlie started to protest, but she was already on her way out.
He sighed, set the phone book down, and leaned against the counter. The cheerful trumpets of the intro to "I Love Lucy" started playing in the front room. Charlie longed to join her. Just the two of them, watching their favorite show. But... No. He'd have to make the call now.
Trembling, he picked up the phone book and found "Rojas, Jairo and Beatriz" once more, then grabbed a pen from the junk drawer. He couldn't find a scrap of paper, so he held the still-stiff book open with his elbow and wrote the number on his palm. Her number. He stared at that number for a long time. What would he say? What would she say? Could it all be over after tonight?
His hand shook as he picked up the phone from its cradle, but he heard the familiar dialing sound followed by a shrill shriek. He let out a breath and hung up the phone. The phone was on the hook again, and he was off it.
Laura came in as soon as Charlie hung up the phone.
She glanced over at him. "Oh, I think your dad might be on the internet. I'll see if he can get off for a few minutes."
Charlie opened his mouth to protest, to beg her to let his dad stay on the internet the rest of the year, but she was gone.
Laura returned a few moments later. "He said to give him ten minutes, then you can call. But not to take too long; he's got to get back on again."
Once again, she was gone before he could say anything.
**************
Cade paused as he neared his house and wiped his brow with Charlie's shirt. He wasn't really ready to be home. But he wasn't sure he'd wanted to be anywhere else, either.
He'd lost track of how many times he'd run down the highway past Charlie's driveway. But... what the fuck could he say?
"Oh, hey, Charlie. I brought your shirt back. Sorry it reeks now. Oh, and I'm sorry I dropped your shorts in front of the whole school. Oh, and by the way, everyone thinks we were fooling around with each other in the locker room before PE. So, uh, see you tomorrow!"
Cade spat on the dirt road. What a fucking mess.
Once again, he pulled Charlie's much-too-tight gym shirt over his sweaty torso as he watched the tan minivan parked in front of the bright "Sunny Side Daycare" sign on the lawn. Camden and Lindsey walked out his front door, waved at his mom, and got in the van. His mom ducked back inside the house. Cade sighed. That probably meant that the twins, Jeremiah and Judith, and their baby brother Jamie were still there.
He stretched his legs. The run/jog/walk had actually been kind of nice. It did help clear his head, even though it was really weird to have his junk flopping around the whole time. But still, he would have preferred to drive his truck, which was still parked at the school's parking lot, because his stupid keys were in his stupid pants inside the fucking closet he had apparently locked because he was so damn distracted. And of course, the fucking key wasn't under the fucking auditorium door when he got there. To make matters worse, he'd have to wake up early to walk to school tomorrow morning. Ugh. Tomorrow. He hoped he could clean up his fucking mess tomorrow before someone else found it.
Cade stepped inside his house, not sure what new disaster he'd find. He pulled off his shoes, massaging his sweaty, bare red feet, frowning at a blister as he surveyed the scene. Why couldn't he at least have put on his socks? Of course... one of the socks had been used for something else, so he wouldn't have worn it anyway.
The house was in its usual state of disarray after a long day. There was the usual chaos of scattered toys, a tipped play kitchen, and a mysterious substance streaking along the back of the worn pleather couch.
His mom, gray-streaked hair falling in front of the dark circles around her eyes, glanced up from helping an upset Jeremiah put a leg back on a dinosaur.
"Hey, Cade. Could you get Judith off the fridge for me?"
Cade nodded and headed to the kitchen, where he eventually managed to pull a pouting Judith off the fridge and set her down, trying to drown out the screaming. She pouted and sat on the floor. He shrugged and picked her up gently, scooting her back to the front room, where his mom was helping Jeremiah extract the head of a doll out of Mr. Potato Head's backside.
She looked up as she freed the doll's head from the plastic spud's interior and began trying to knead it back into shape. "Thanks. Could you please change Jamie's diaper for me, too?"
Cade picked up the toddler, wrinkling his nose. Ugh, a crappy one. He hated it when that happened.
With the squirming little boy in one arm, Cade grabbed the diaper pad and spread it on the floor, wrinkling his nose. His mom said she opened the daycare so she could be home for him. He half suspected that it was to encourage abstinence before marriage. He gagged as he opened the diaper with one hand and pinned the wiggling toddler down with the other. It was certainly working, but probably too well. It was going to be up to Denis and Lisa to provide the grandkids.
The diaper changed and Jamie clean and scooting around again, Cade stepped into the bathroom and closed the door, disposing of the diaper. He gagged at the sight of the toilet bowl and flushed, hoping it wouldn't be plugged this time. Relieved that everything went down, hoping there was nothing important in there, he pulled his shorts down. He had to admit, he kind of liked going commando, even though he certainly hadn't planned on it. Good thing he didn't lose his shorts... like Charlie. He frowned. He was such a fucking dumbass!
He frowned at his penis. Stupid foreskin anyway! If only his mom had waited to read those dang natural health magazines after he'd been born, he could have at least been normal. Well, at least normal there.
A small fist pounded on the door. "Let me in! I have to go potty!" Jeremiah cried in his shrill voice.
Cade sighed and pulled his shorts up, flushed, washed his hands as he gazed at the toothpaste he'd have to wipe off the sink that evening, and opened the door to see Jeremiah dancing around with his pants around his ankles. Cade rolled his eyes. Sometimes it would be nice if he could be as unselfconscious as a little kid again.
Cade poked his head into his room to assess the damage. Just the usual: blankets and sheets draped from his bed to his chair in a crude fort, toys strewn across the floor, his vase of flowers spilled again. At least he never put much water in the bottom. The flowers, of course, were trashed, but there were new ones in the flower bed along the front of the house.
He wished that his room could be off-limits, but they just didn't have enough space.
He let out a deep breath when he heard the doorbell ring. Finally, peace. Now to clean up for tomorrow.