feel. Or not feel. He’s just a scared little boy wishing for the one person who truly loved him to come home. But she won’t. She never will. Mandy is dead.
Manic or depressed, it doesn’t matter. He’s still someone who very much deserved to be cared for, loved, and appreciated. That’s all any child deserves. How? Why? How could his parents give up their only remaining child?
At six o’clock the next morning Charlie snuck out of the bed, careful not to disturb the exquisitely sculpted man next to her. His dark blond hair was a mess from a sound sleep and his cheek was buried in the pillow. The white sheet partially covered the torso of his tanned physique but revealed the areas of him she was most fond of. She couldn’t ever remember seeing him so peaceful.
After a quick shower, she sauntered into the kitchen and poured herself a glass of orange juice, cringing at the flavor of the citrus mixed with the aftertaste of toothpaste.
Sitting down on the floor of Jesse’s living room, she took out a piece of paper and pulled the coffee table closer for a hard surface to write on. Having vowed to remember it so she could write it down in the morning, she had been reciting the name he’d muttered the night before, just before falling asleep.
List
Research
John Sanborn.
Jesse Sanborn
Mandy Sanborn
Treatments for bipolar
Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder
Bike
Drums
Bank
Lily
Call Karalee…
As her list lengthened, her eagerness to get started mounted. Her phone rang softly from the corner of the room where the remnants of her purse’s contents lay on the floor. Startled momentarily, her stomach flipped as she rose quickly to answer it.
Disappointed to see Roxanne’s name on her caller ID, she answered. “Hello?”
“Hi, Charlie! It’s me. I know it’s the first day of your vacation, but I wanted to call and get a few things in order. Then I promise I won’t call again unless it’s an emergency!”
Charlie giggled. “That’s fine, Roxanne. I was expecting you to call. Did you get my notes?”
“Yes! Thank you for these. I just had a question about the carpet cleaning in three-eleven…”
After clarifying a few things for Roxanne, Charlie scribbled down a note for Jesse to find when he woke, and set it on the kitchen island. She filled a glass of water, added a few salvaged daisies to it, and strolled back to her apartment.
*
As she opened the door, the smell of Samuel lingered in the air. For the briefest of moments she thought he was there, somewhere in the apartment. Striking the thought aside, she went to her unopened mail on the counter and found the bonus check for winning Manager of the Year. Typed in her name, the check was in the amount of two thousand dollars.
She flicked it on her chin twice and stared into the dark and lifeless living room. Shoving the check into her purse, she walked to the blinds and ripped them open. The warm room flooded with light and small dust specks floated in the stale air around her.
Things so far have fallen into place. God, this has been hard. And that phone incident last night! I could scream! If he would’ve seen the texts I sent to Sam, the shit would’ve hit the fan.
Last night. Oh that stupid night. I knew if I was going to have to…have sex? Make love? Fuck…Jesse last night, I’d have to keep my eyes closed and get it over with. He would’ve never opened up to me and told me those things he did if I hadn’t.
I’m such an asshole. First… Sam. She held her stomach and wrapped her hand around her mouth, trying to cast the thoughts of Sam aside and bury them deep, hiding them from herself until she could wrap her conscience around them. And now I’m toying with Jesse. I’m trying to fix a broken man who has clearly stated he doesn’t want to be fixed. But is it so wrong? Am I really that horrible of a person to want to help him? He was the best friend I’ve ever had. I do love him. I really do. Just not the way I love…S —
She
Manic or depressed, it doesn’t matter. He’s still someone who very much deserved to be cared for, loved, and appreciated. That’s all any child deserves. How? Why? How could his parents give up their only remaining child?
At six o’clock the next morning Charlie snuck out of the bed, careful not to disturb the exquisitely sculpted man next to her. His dark blond hair was a mess from a sound sleep and his cheek was buried in the pillow. The white sheet partially covered the torso of his tanned physique but revealed the areas of him she was most fond of. She couldn’t ever remember seeing him so peaceful.
After a quick shower, she sauntered into the kitchen and poured herself a glass of orange juice, cringing at the flavor of the citrus mixed with the aftertaste of toothpaste.
Sitting down on the floor of Jesse’s living room, she took out a piece of paper and pulled the coffee table closer for a hard surface to write on. Having vowed to remember it so she could write it down in the morning, she had been reciting the name he’d muttered the night before, just before falling asleep.
List
Research
John Sanborn.
Jesse Sanborn
Mandy Sanborn
Treatments for bipolar
Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder
Bike
Drums
Bank
Lily
Call Karalee…
As her list lengthened, her eagerness to get started mounted. Her phone rang softly from the corner of the room where the remnants of her purse’s contents lay on the floor. Startled momentarily, her stomach flipped as she rose quickly to answer it.
Disappointed to see Roxanne’s name on her caller ID, she answered. “Hello?”
“Hi, Charlie! It’s me. I know it’s the first day of your vacation, but I wanted to call and get a few things in order. Then I promise I won’t call again unless it’s an emergency!”
Charlie giggled. “That’s fine, Roxanne. I was expecting you to call. Did you get my notes?”
“Yes! Thank you for these. I just had a question about the carpet cleaning in three-eleven…”
After clarifying a few things for Roxanne, Charlie scribbled down a note for Jesse to find when he woke, and set it on the kitchen island. She filled a glass of water, added a few salvaged daisies to it, and strolled back to her apartment.
*
As she opened the door, the smell of Samuel lingered in the air. For the briefest of moments she thought he was there, somewhere in the apartment. Striking the thought aside, she went to her unopened mail on the counter and found the bonus check for winning Manager of the Year. Typed in her name, the check was in the amount of two thousand dollars.
She flicked it on her chin twice and stared into the dark and lifeless living room. Shoving the check into her purse, she walked to the blinds and ripped them open. The warm room flooded with light and small dust specks floated in the stale air around her.
Things so far have fallen into place. God, this has been hard. And that phone incident last night! I could scream! If he would’ve seen the texts I sent to Sam, the shit would’ve hit the fan.
Last night. Oh that stupid night. I knew if I was going to have to…have sex? Make love? Fuck…Jesse last night, I’d have to keep my eyes closed and get it over with. He would’ve never opened up to me and told me those things he did if I hadn’t.
I’m such an asshole. First… Sam. She held her stomach and wrapped her hand around her mouth, trying to cast the thoughts of Sam aside and bury them deep, hiding them from herself until she could wrap her conscience around them. And now I’m toying with Jesse. I’m trying to fix a broken man who has clearly stated he doesn’t want to be fixed. But is it so wrong? Am I really that horrible of a person to want to help him? He was the best friend I’ve ever had. I do love him. I really do. Just not the way I love…S —
She
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