The Next Reminder

XVIII || "You will never understand"

*Charlotte's POV*

A few days have passed since reuniting with my 'dad'. It's a little bittersweet, but I have a mission I need to fulfill for William. It hurts to think that within the next few days, I need to hurt Henry, but I need to make my father proud. Henry and I have traveled back to the old house to grab a few things, and for Henry to show all those old photos of 'me'. One photo showed a picture of Henry's family, and my father's family. It's been so long since I had last seen a picture of my real self. Blond hair, green eyes, a cute denim skirt and a pink shirt. Charlotte, this form, was only a baby still, and so was Sammy. It's clear my father got farther ahead in those types of things than Henry did. If I switched back to my Fake Charlie form, Henry would never want to speak to me again, but I wish to keep this mutual trust as long as possible. I'm not sure why I decided to ruin things between us. He offered to take me under his wing, and I betrayed him, resulting in more remnant being injected inside of himself. I sort of feel bad for him. We all know how badly he wanted to die in the 80s, and now it's nearing the 2000s, still not dead, and will never be dead. That's one thing we have in common.

Today, I'm going to see my friends. We all agreed to meet at the local café, the location we always meet up at. I have already met up with Jessica and Carlton, but I'm quite nervous to see John, considering the last time. Also, considering the crush he has—or had on Charlie. I adjust my shirt, and my dark green jacket. I try my best to work with Charlie's frizzy hair, note to self, do not brush my hair dry. I have a big poofy mess to deal with, and I hopelessly play around with it in hopes to make something work. I groan, giving up on it.

I don't announce I'm leaving, and just walk out the door, Jessica waits for me in her car, while Carlton already left.

"Aren't you so excited to see John again?" She asks, excitedly.

"...Enlighten me on why I would be excited to see John?" I ask, but it's a genuine question. From what I've observed, John is a book nerd that has absolutely zero personality but his childhood crush, so frankly, I'm a little scared.

Jessica laughs, "I know, right. Boys are gross." She shakes her head, a smile on her face. I agree with her, and the rest of the car ride there is horribly awkward.

*Henry's POV*

"You don't get it, Clay. It's not her." I shake my head, crossing my arms.

Clay groans, "Yes, I do get it! I've gone through a divorce, my child almost died, I do get it!"

"Your child almost died. How would you feel if he actually did die? When Charlotte died, I died inside. I was so distraught...and afraid.. you just don't understand! You will never understand!"

"But I do!" Clay raises his voice. "We've all been sad once."

I scoff, "Has your sadness ever been frowned upon? I won't go to the doctor's because they already know what's wrong with me, swallow some pills and you'll be fine for the day. Forget the pills and you're on the floor in fetal position sobbing your eyes out. My daughter was KILLED by my best-friend because he wanted to live forever, and now I'm forced to live forever alongside him. Do you think I wanted this?! Do you think I wanted any of this? I could've killed myself back in the 80s if I really wanted to, but the only person I had, my sister, is the one person who convinced me not to. The sadness, the anger, the confusion all builds up inside until you feel like you're screaming until your throat feels raw. But no one will hear you. No one will hear you if you're the accused." I sigh, turning away from Clay. "Don't raise your voice at me again."

I turn back toward Clay, and he looks shocked. "I hear you, Henry." He says, walking up to hug me. I shrink away from his touch.

"No you don't, if you think that Charlie is my Charlotte."

*Charlotte's POV*

I thank the waitress as she hands me my iced latte, but I don't touch it.

"It's great that you're here now, Charlie. That story was rough." John commented, and I nod in agreement.

"That story could be turned into a novel, you know.." Carlton nudges John, grinning. John shakes his head. We all look up at him, waiting for him to speak.

"No, I stopped writing after everything that happened in the spring. I just haven't felt the motivation to." John lowers his head, and I sigh.

"Yeah, that is a real shame, but if you wrote a book about the whole situation, I would totally read it!" Jessica says, smiling hopefully as she lightly touches his hand.

I push my hair out of my face again, and Carlton nods in agreement, "I don't even read and I'd still read your books, dude. You always got A's in our Writing class at school, imagine how good you'll be now!"

John chuckles, "That 'writing' class was learning the ABCs, in kindergarten! So technically, it doesn't count."

"Well, he tried." Jessica says, shrugging as she sips her hot caramel macchiato.

I look down at my latte again, hesitantly taking a sip from it. I look around the table, John got a cup of straight black coffee, and I wrinkle up my nose. What my father used to drink, I think. Carlton got a mug of hot chocolate, which he claimed it was, "no where near as good" as his dad's, and now, I'm sort of curious.

"Hey, Carlton. How good is your dad's hot chocolate?" I ask, raising an eyebrow, "I think I've forgotten the flavor.."

Carlton grins, "Why don't we go back to the house and you can try some for yourself?"