Play It Again, Charlie (62 page)

“What's wrong?” She was instantly worried, and Charlie shook his head.

“I'm just hot,
nina
.” It was a term he usually only occasionally used with Katia, and Ann made a noise on her end that said she was surprised to hear it but didn't mind. “Is everything okay with you?”

The air wasn't getting any cooler with him standing there. Charlie started to move, then gave up when his bag slipped down and he couldn't use the cane at the same time.

“No, I'm fine.” Ann made another noise. “Though what do you think of dancing?”

“You want to take dancing classes?” He was pretty sure Ann had already gone through a phase where she'd studied dance.

“No, not me. You. So you can meet people.”

“You... .” Charlie shut his eyes and pulled at his collar. He couldn't touch his tie. “You want me to dance. To meet people.” He choked back angry words, though he could hear his voice rising. But he could barely walk and she was asking him about dancing. If he'd been going to dance, it wouldn't be in some awkward dating environment. It would have been in that club with Will or somewhere like it.

It was no good telling her that without trying to explain Will to her.

“That sounds nice,” he said instead and heard her happy squeal.

“I knew you'd love it! You've been so down lately, we've all noticed it. Nana said to leave you alone, but I knew you just needed a push.” The fact that she was truly concerned only made it worse.

“Listen, Anita, I need to go to the store. I'll call you back, okay?” He didn't wait after her startled, “Okay, but Charlie... .” He ended the call and then started to move again, trying not to look ahead at the long, painful walk awaiting him.

The shade from the tree over the gate wouldn't have been enough to dry the damp patches under his arms even if he'd lingered under it. But if he stopped there, he would stare up at the empty balcony to Grayson's apartment, and he'd done that one too many days already.

The sliding glass doors were closed. He looked anyway, glancing covertly over as he made his way into the complex, though there was no one to see him. There hadn't been anyone up there that he'd seen since Saturday, and no one that he'd heard, even during long nights with his bedroom window open.

It wasn't the heat keeping him up any more than the pain in his hip, though that was growing worse with every morning he woke with his body twisted and his head turned to catch whatever breeze might drift in through his window.

He leaned more on his cane and vowed to stop by the pharmacy tomorrow for more of the stronger pills. Anything that would allow him real rest.

His phone hummed in his pocket once more. If it was a text, it wouldn't be from his sisters. It wouldn't be from Will, either, but he stopped to fumble it out of his pocket anyway and frowned at the message from Jeanine.

Her call as he was still holding his phone made him twitch.

“Jeanine.” He snapped out her name and then swallowed. “Sorry, you startled me.” As though he hadn't been dodging her all week. She wasn't stupid, and her concerned stares had said as much. “I haven't been sleeping. I... .”

No one was around, but he glanced over the complex anyway, only to freeze at the flash of motion on the stairs. “I'll call you back in a bit.” Turning was an effort and one he regretted when his pulse slowed and he saw the skinny blond heading down the stairs from the second-floor apartments. Chris was in shorts again. Charlie tried not to think about Will's thoughts about that fashion choice as Chris reached the bottom and saw him.

He froze about the same way Charlie had and then gave a small, jerky wave. Charlie nodded, then straightened, not sure why when he knew he looked like a sweating, exhausted man in pain.

Chris looked toward the gate, then back at him, clearly wanting to leave. Charlie wasn't aware he'd spoken until Chris offered him another uncertain wave.

“I was wondering who was taking care of Grayson's plants.”

“Oh. Yeah.” Chris hesitated, then took a single step closer to him. “Lee, William, asked me to.”

“So Will's okay?” Charlie's face was stinging at the jumbled question. It spilled out of him, stupid and too eager. Chris seemed to hold himself still, but then he nodded. At least he wasn't laughing or smiling. If anything, the expression on his face was sad and wistful. Maybe he wasn't sober. But he seemed sharp and aware as he studied Charlie for another moment.

“Yeah.” Chris's gesture was very Will-like. “He's a good guy. You should know that.” Charlie almost looked down at the accusation in those flying hands.

“I do. Will is— I hope he's okay.” Jesus. Charlie heard himself and moved, turning away so at least his flush would go unnoticed and he wouldn't have to see Chris's reaction to that. His phone went off again in his pocket. Charlie had a feeling it was one of his sisters. He didn't take it.

He looked back when Chris didn't answer and saw that he'd taken his chance and slipped away. Charlie didn't call him back, but Chris was at the gate when he stopped again and twisted around. His words rushed out like he was sharing a secret. “He should be. His sister's been taking care of him.” He gave Charlie a short, awkward nod and then hurried out.

Charlie stared after him, everything else he wanted to say caught in his throat. What was there to say: ask the man to give Will a message, tell him to tell Will that Charlie missed him more than he should, to come back, to stay, that it had been a long, long time since Charlie had been happy like that?

His muscles were so tight they ached, and he turned away and headed to his door, nearly dropping his keys in an effort to get inside before Mrs. Brown or anyone else would emerge and ask him for something.

The air was heavy and still until he made his way to the living room window to open it. Then he put down his bag and his cane on the couch and went back to the kitchen, where he opened the second to last can of food for Sam and scooped out his litter box to help with the stale air.

He had over-the-counter pain pills that would have to do, and he took them with water when he was done and cleaned up and then headed back through the hot air to his bedroom, where the open window hadn't done much for the daytime heat.

There wouldn't be a knock at the door, not unless Mrs. Brown's computer froze, but he left the bathroom door open to listen for one, washing his face with quiet splashes and avoiding his reflection. He looked like a wreck and knew it. There was a reason Jeanine had kept after him this week.

He still had to call his sisters back and think about dinner, not that there was much to eat. His stomach was already turning from the pills, anyway, so he toed off his shoes and then finally reached up to remove his tie.

A second later he dropped onto the bed and sat on the edge. His apartment was so quiet he could hear Sam eating. There was no way he'd been getting any sleep tonight; he could already tell and was strangely resigned to the thought. It was what he deserved.

The necktie stayed in his hand when his phone buzzed again, and he answered it. At this point there wasn't much around him that he didn't associate with Will, but hanging onto a tie seemed especially pathetic.

His words came out rough. “I said I'd call you back.”

Jeanine took a moment. “Oh, that is
it
,” she snapped when she'd recovered. “How bad is it?”

“How bad is what?” Charlie stared at the tie in his hand and the pattern Will had liked and felt the bed dip as Sam jumped up to join him.

“Your therapist isn't worth the money if they let you get away with that sort of answer, Charlie. How much
pain
are you in?” He could just see her pushing up her glasses.

“I took something for it.” He couldn't change his tone. He didn't even try. If he tried to act fine, she'd jump down his throat.

“I don't think pills are for this kind of pain, kiddo. At least, not those kinds of pills. What are you doing?”

“I was going to make dinner.” His stomach churned, and he closed his eyes.

“Liar,” she scoffed. “Should I bring something when I come over?”

“You don't... .” The strange anger slipped away from him. He felt worse with it gone and let out a breath. “Don't come over here. I don't... .” He didn't have to look around to know what he'd see. Nothing. “I'll come to see you.”

“How about no? I'm coming over. If you are anything like you were when you left work today, you are not doing any more driving.”

“I'll be fine. Jeanine, I— ” There was so much to say. He was hardly on the verge of a breakdown. He was just upset, the way anyone would be. But he opened his eyes and gave a long shudder when the sunlight let him see the dust moving slowly through the air. His own words surprised him. “I don't want to be here. Let's go out.”

“Out?” Her shock would have been hurtful if it hadn't been completely justified. But like Chris, if she felt smug in any way, it wasn't in her voice. “Well, well, well.” She exhaled. “Be ready to go when I get there,” she said at last and then let out a small laugh. “It's my turn, anyway.”

“Why are we here again?” Jeanine shouted over music that was getting louder as the night wore on. It was also possible she was drunk, but Charlie had been watching her and he didn't think so. Aside from the fact that she'd insisted she would be the designated driver, she'd only had one margarita, and the face she'd made at the taste said she wouldn't be having more.

He couldn't blame her; the well drinks at the bar seemed to be on the cheap side. His tequila burned in a way good tequila shouldn't. But he licked salt from his mouth and leaned in closer to her to better hear her question. It hadn't been crowded when they'd first arrived, but now it was like every queer this side of the bridge and his straight girl best friend was in here and pushing around the bar.

“You don't like it?” He had no idea why he was defending it. If his apartment had been too quiet, this place was too loud. He didn't know the music, and what he did recognize made him think of Will, and then dancing, and then his sister trying to set him up. Again.

Maybe he should let her, he thought resignedly. He had taken Will to meet his family, had all but asked him to stay, but he'd known deep down that it was asking too much.

He clearly wasn't doing well on his own, and when it went bad, as it probably would, she might finally understand why he hated it so much and leave him alone.

“Don't get me wrong, it seems fun,” Jeanine went on, “though I admit it isn't what I imagined the inside of a gay bar would look like.”

“There was more dancing when Will and I were here before.” Maybe that had been a special night. Jeanine gave him a significant look as she took a sip of her soda, and Charlie realized he should have said something else.

“When you were here before with your Will? Let me get this straight, you don't want to be reminded of him at home so you go
out
to a place where you can be reminded of him?”

“I just wanted noise.” He was being louder than he needed to be, even with the music and the people around them. The press of people and the several shots of tequila had him too warm and off balance to focus. Jeanine wasn't paying attention to what he said, anyway. She took another sip and then gasped, spitting on him in the process.

“Oh my God, you were hoping he'd be here! Oh,
Charlie
.” She softened in the same second, leaning toward him to pat first his hair, then his shoulder. Charlie instantly shook his head, but it didn't do anything but make him dizzy. He grabbed hold of the bar, then looked down, not quite sure where his cane had gone.

He was aware that he was drunk. All those times Will had teased him about it and now he finally was, and Will wasn't anywhere around. Not on the dance floor, not outside on his phone, not near the restrooms.

“It sounds like it was just a fight. Call him.”

“What?” Charlie swung his head back up to squint at her and then had to take a moment to let the world settle back down. There was a mass of glitter behind him that probably meant the twins were at the bar again. Thankfully, this time they weren't paying any attention to him.

“Ask him to come back. Admit you have a case of the sads. Invite him here and show him some moves... if you have any. Say you're sorry. Whatever.” She eyed his empty shot glass. “Hmm,
uno mas
?”

“No.” To all of it. “I can't call him again.” He wasn't drunk enough that the admission didn't burn. Jeanine's eyebrows went up. Charlie looked at the shot glass too. “He's not answering me, not even my work phone.” He tossed his head at the incredulous sound she made and then frowned. “I just needed to know he's all right.”

According to Chris, he was. Charlie should leave it alone now.

“Hmm yeah, okay, if
he's
all right,” Jeanine said doubtfully. “Why shouldn't he be? He's an adult, right? And you only went out a few weeks.”

“I know!” Charlie was snapping again. He was acting ridiculous. He licked his mouth again and pretended not to see Jeanine trying to signal a bartender. He did lower his voice after a pause, only enough that no one else around them would hear the pathetic words he couldn't seem to hold back. “It just... . It felt like it could have been... .” He rubbed at his stinging cheeks. “Something. Never mind.”

“What?” Jeanine was back in his face, so close he couldn't focus on her. “It's loud in here, so no mumbling. Don't make me make you do another shot. You need to learn to talk when sober.” Maybe she had been sneaking drinks after all, because that made very little sense. Charlie thought about it, then scowled at her.

“I talk,” he started to insist and then could hear Will yelling at him all over again. No, not yelling, something softer and much worse. He'd been hiding his hurt feelings about all the things Charlie hadn't told him and he'd been failing.

Shit. The knot was still there in his stomach, a match to the furious way his heart was pounding. That cold, brittle tone wasn't playacting or from some movie, or if it was, it was just Will trying to protect himself, probably the way he always had.

“I didn't mean for it be like that,” he whispered to himself. “I shouldn't want it when I know it's going to end, but I did and I thought it would help.”