Stained Glass Souls (Wattys 2014, Collector's Dream Award Winner)

Charliegh, Part Two: Forsaken Fruit

(Charliegh, Part Two: unedited)

Cale was the first thing she saw when she opened the door. He was leaning against the scratched expanse of his Chevy, illuminated by a pool of moonlight. As she approached, he straightened, a sober grin appearing across his face. He almost looked hungry, eyes darting down her figure and back up to meet her eyes. One meaty hand pushed his sagging beanie further up on his head, light catching upon his carrot hair.

 “Charliegh.” He drawled.

She crossed her arms over her chest, feeling exposed by his naked curiosity.  “Cale. What’d you want?”

“Well.” He tipped his head, scrutinizing her. “I wanna know why Sylas sucked tonight.”

She winced. A few quick, careless slashes, and he had sent her emotional rollercoaster to a slamming halt. “Why would you ask me? Maybe he was just off.”

“He’s never off.” Cale met her gaze, slow and steady. “You came to one of our first gigs – and he wouldn’t shut up about you, mumbling. The name is pretty unusual.”

“My name?”

He rolled his eyes. “Yeah, your name. So?”

She took a deep breath, trying to organize her thoughts. How could Sylas turn his back so completely, after one mistruth? He seemed to have a personal vendetta against Nolan. Yet as far as she knew, they had never interacted.

And they never had a reason to – Nolan idled his days away in parking lots and tattoo parlors, while Sylas spent hours with his band, or in his bedroom, rehearsing until his throat was raw. One was determined, driven by his quiet ambition. The other was lackadaisical, content to waste his life on unfulfilled promises.

So why had this one name – Nolan Endell – cause him to back away in surrender, leaving her to puzzle through the broken ends of her relationships alone?

“I have no idea why he’d be…off.”

“He doesn’t talk to you at all? Like, anything?”

“No,” she said briskly, “but when he does, I’ll be sure to ask him.”

Cale towered over her, mouth set in a grim line. “Look, Charliegh. I really don’t care about your problem with Sylas, but we’re playing an important gig next Friday. So, he needs to be, I dunno, non-sucky.”

Was that the reason? Had he abandoned her for his music? It seemed rather convenient that, when her problems became too much to handle, his career was at a tipping point. Charliegh pressed her fingers into her temples, bracing herself.

“I was going to talk to him,” she said. Lie. “But the music ended and he left.”

They stood in silence for a moment as Cale considered her words. As she looked around, pulling her arms tightly across her chest, it struck her how empty the world was. Time seem suspended by the ticking crescent moon, and even the stars seemed frozen, burning dimly against the darkened sky. A lone streetlamp buzzed nearby, illuminating the vacant parking lot in watery, rust-colored light.

It reminded her of hopelessness – how, even within the confines of an idyllic town, it snaked through the corners and bled through the doors, demanding to be noticed, commanding to be recognized.

It was not something that was easy to ignore. And neither, she realized, was Sylas’s mistake.  

“Well.” Cale paused, frowning. “We, uh, were gonna grab dinner after the gig. Actually…” He stuck his hand into his pocket, pulling out his cell phone. “I should tell them I’m still coming. Plus one.”