What About Charlie? (25 page)

He sighed, slowly slipping out of his passion induced daze. “I know. I’m sorry, Charlie. You can’t do anything right now, but in a few more weeks you’ll be ok. We can have our wedding night then.”

His silence was his answer. Though she knew what it was going to be, a small part of her had hoped that she would be wrong, that he would surprise her and say, “Yes, I love you, Charlie. With all my heart.”

She carefully schooled her features to not betray her intense hurt and sadness. “Then I have my answer.”

Turning his back to her, he walked over to the fireplace and stared at the flames. “So you’re saying this marriage will be in name only.” Suddenly, he looked up at her, his eyes catching hers. “You don’t want a family?”

Charlie couldn’t mistake the pain and the yearning in his voice. Of course she wanted to have a family, but she wanted to bring a child into a home filled with love. He or she deserved that much. She couldn’t consciously become pregnant with Evan’s child knowing he didn’t love her.

A bitter laugh escaped from him when she failed to answer. “This is one hell of a wedding night, being told by my new bride that I’ll never make love to her. One hell of a wedding gift, don’t you think, Charlie?” Looking at her pointedly, his angry eyes pinning hers, he said in a deathly low voice, “I’m a man with needs, Charlie. Sexual needs. What am I to do? Perhaps I need to find someone to satisfy them.”

She forced herself to look away from him. She couldn’t bare the thought of him with another woman, of him kissing her, caressing her tenderly with his hands, of his making love to her. Charlie’s stomach churned at the thought.

Charlie heard the door open, then close. She was such an idiot, she thought angrily. She’d hurt him deeply. His eyes had said it all.

Instead of making things easier for them by clumsily outlining the terms of their marriage, she’d complicated everything beyond repair by refusing to sleep with him. She all but pushed him into the arms of another woman.

Would he seek out another woman? Have a mistress? Would he have a child with her?

A bitter sob escaped from deep within her. At that moment, she felt like the stupidest person in the world.

****

Evan took a sip of beer then set the dark bottle back down on the counter top, fingering the small droplets of water that had formed on the cool surface.

Filled with rage, he’d stormed out of their room four hours ago. Then he’d driven around for an hour or so just thinking. Thinking about Charlie, his decision to marry her, their life together.

With nothing better to do, he’d stopped at a local bar and grill to drink a beer and sort his thoughts. He was still in the same seat three hours later, sitting at the bar nursing a beer while he watched television.

When he proposed, he had acted spontaneously, not thinking the consequences through. He had acted totally out of character. Now he was afraid that he’d made the biggest mistake of his life. Looking at the situation now, he grimly realized they had no future together. How could they? She wanted no part of him. She didn’t want to make love to him. She didn’t want to have his children. She’d married him for health insurance and financial security.

He felt like the worlds biggest chump. Though in all fairness, when he proposed to her he did put it in the financial reason context. But he thought there would be much more to their marriage than that - a happy life together, companionship, having children. That had been his intention. He’d thought she’d forgiven him, that she still loved him. Perhaps he should’ve asked before he had proposed.

It was too late now.

It all had blown up in his face. Instead of looking forward to years of happiness, they were looking at years of misery. Charlie not wanting an intimate relationship was not a shock to his ego, but was a deathblow to his heart, like someone had reached into his chest and yanked it out. His pain was that great.

Looking up to the television, feeling very uncomfortable with the way she was looking at him, he said, “I’m here on, uh, business.” Why didn’t he tell her he’d just gotten married? Because happily married men don’t spend their wedding night sitting alone in a bar.

“We all need a little pleasure now and again.”

His eyes shot to hers. There was no mistaking her invitation. He’d be lying to say there wasn’t a single second of temptation, but he couldn’t. He’d married Charlie. For better or for worse. He’d made vows to be faithful and true to her. He couldn’t break those vows, not now anyway, not ever. He just had to give her time, give their marriage a chance.

“I don’t know. Perhaps if we sleep on it things will be clearer in the morning. Please sleep in the bed. It’s big enough for four people.”

Charlie looked away as he stripped out of his clothes. A few moments later he sat on the edge of the bed, the feather mattress dipping. Even though there were only a few inches separating them, they might as well have been miles apart.

After Evan lay down, emptiness filled his heart, still feeling the pain of Charlie’s rejection. The pain he was feeling wasn’t because he’d been horny and couldn’t do anything about it. It was because he longed for Charlie, for the intimacy with her, the physical closeness and the emotional connection he needed with her. He briefly thought of that woman in the bar. He could have slept with her, but he had no desire to do so. The only desire he had was for his wife.

Charlie stared out her bedroom window, watching Evan as he drove off to work. It was Friday and would probably prove to be just another lonely, boring day. The one and a half months they’d been married had flown by. Charlie still went to physical therapy on a daily basis, but, thankfully, Mrs. Turner no longer needed to stay with her all day or drive her to wherever she needed to go. She was healed enough to be on her own and even drive. When Alan had given her the ok last week, she had felt as if a great weight had been lifted off her shoulders. She was finally regaining her freedom.

She loved Mrs. Turner but had felt suffocated from her constant hovering. She also knew that whatever Mrs. Turner observed of her during the day was reported directly to Evan. Evan would know whether she twisted the wrong way, hurting her back or if she relied too heavily on her walker at times. She felt like a five year old with a babysitter reporting all the misdeeds done during the day. She’d come to resent it. So, it was with great relief when she learned Mrs. Turner was no longer needed.

What should she do with herself today? Snow was falling, and she didn’t care to get out on the roads. Christmas was a little less than a month away. If Christmas was going to be anything like Thanksgiving, she’d gladly forgo the holiday.

Thanksgiving had been horrible. Evan ended up having to work that day. They had planned to go out to eat, but he couldn’t get away from the hospital. So he ate at the cafeteria and she ate a can of Chef Boyardee ravioli. But then again, it had been like every other day of their marriage. Why should she have expected Thanksgiving to be any different?

Her depression was deepening. She could sense it. She felt less and less in control of her life. She still walked with a limp and had to use a cane, though she went to therapy everyday. It was distressing and discouraging, and her deepest fear, that she would always limp, seemed to be coming true. To be truthful, her heart wasn’t much in going to therapy anymore. Actually, her heart wasn’t much into anything. What was the use of it all?

On top of that, all the hours of loneliness were almost too much to bare. At one point, she had thought about going back to work. It had been her hope that if she resumed her old schedule and kept herself busy during the day, she would be better able to cope with her depression and crumbling marriage. But there was no way she could sit in front of a computer all day. Her hip couldn’t take it. So, she was stuck at home with nothing better to do than contemplate her lot in life and her farce of a marriage.

Ha! If one could even call it a marriage. The only thing that held them together was their signature on the marriage certificate. There was nothing else. They rarely spoke except in the morning when she got up to fix Evan coffee. Sometimes he called during the day to check on her. More often than not, however, he would have his secretary call. At night, she was usually in her bed by the time he came home. Without saying a word to her, Evan would then go to his bed upstairs. They were living separate lives, sharing nothing with each other except the roof over their heads.

It was heartbreaking and worrisome. They’d been best friends; now they were down to this.

They hadn’t slept together since their wedding night. He hadn’t touched her either. And she wasn’t talking about intimately. She was talking about pats on the shoulder, hugs of encouragement, a simple, innocent touch of the fingers when he handed her something.

Nothing.

It was as if he had it in his mind to ignore her, to be as impersonal and put as much distance between them as possible. That’s what hurt the most. But she had to admit that she wasn’t exactly trying to communicate and reach out to him either.

This whole mess was entirely her fault. Evan had wanted a real marriage but it was she who put the brakes on, who created all this mess with her big mouth on their wedding night. She’d been so foolish to say anything!

Now, she wanted to rectify the situation between them. But how? At times she had planned to apologize, to tell him that more than anything she wanted to be close to him, to work this marriage out, but the moment never seemed right or something interfered. Other times she plain chickened out. This confusion seemed to rule her life, and it was definitely having its negative affects.

Often, she thought of their wedding night. He’d come back that evening smelling of cigarette smoke and beer. She had no doubt in her mind that he’d been to a bar. Did he meet someone there? Did he go through with his threat and find someone to satisfy his sexual needs?

Through the ensuing weeks, Charlie had come to the resignation that he probably had though he may not have met someone that night, but he had sometime since. Evan was a handsome, virile man.

She had no proof he was cheating on her. If fact, whenever she called him at work, he’d always been there. But for as long as she’d known him, he’d never worked six to seven days a week into all hours of the night. What other explanation could there be? There was the possibility, she thought, that he simply didn’t want to be around her. She didn’t know which was worse. Either way, the situation between them was dire.