We're Not Strangers Anymore

Chapter Twenty Four - The Argument

'What about you, how have you been whilst I've been off?'
A selection of eleven words that Charlie certainly did not want to hear this evening. Jamie asking him this simple yet hard-hitting question brought back negative memories, thoughts and observations that Charlie couldn't wait to see the back of. But now, thanks to his good friend Jamie, Charlie was thinking about all of them.
The funeral. Uncle David.
The face of Uncle Pierce.
Mum, drunkenly crying into the sleeves of her dress.
Emily might break up with me, there's always that. If she thinks I'm mad, there's a high enough chance.
And of course, the thought to top them all - the little boy in the basement.
The time had come, it had finally arrived (or so Charlie thought, ever so naively).
'Jamie.. I need to talk to you about something.'
'Yeah?' he asked, sitting up and wiping a rather snotty nose, 'what is it?'
He took a pause for breath, completely unaware of what to say next.
'Mate, the thing is, I.. God, I don't even know how to say this. I saw something in your window again. Something horrible, and I've been dreading saying it to you. I wasn't even going to tell you, how pathetic is that? I was just going to leave it, and—'
'Charlie,' Jamie interrupted, 'if you're about to throw dirt on my Dad's name, then you can forget it.'
'What do you mean?'
'Well, my Dad told me that you came over to see me the other week, but this was when I was still unwell. Not that I don't appreciate you doing that for me, because I do, but my Dad said that you were acting a little.. well, shifty really. I think you should go and see someone, I really do.'
Charlie got up from the beanbag.
'Jamie, mate, I'm not making this up you know. I'm not mental! D'ya think I'm saying this just for the sheer fun of it? There's a dead boy in your basement, all right? And if he's not dead, then.. he's nearly dead.'
Jamie stared blankly at the bedsheets covering his legs, a look of terror striking his colourless face.
'Charlie, I don't know what to say.. I've told you before, that's my Dad's office. You really think that he's killing kids in between writing up important work documents? I don't think so. Look, I know you're scared—'
'I'm not scared,' Charlie interrupted, 'i'm really not. Okay, I admit, that weirdo man in your window was strange enough, but you told me that that was your Dad's friend, and we sorted that all out.. but I am telling you now, I saw a little boy down there, pinned to the fucking walls of YOUR basement!'
Jamie's eyes briefly flickered, and finally he snapped.
'Don't say stupid shit like that! And keep your voice down, will you! Me and my Dad may not always see eye-to-eye, but he's my Dad, yeah? And I love him more than anything in this world!'
Jamie lowered his tone of voice before carrying on.
'Charlie, just stop this now, okay? There isn't anyone in my basement. Just because I'm not allowed down there, it doesn't mean that my Dad is kidnapping the locals, does it?'
'Jamie, will you just listen to—'
'No, I won't. I actually thought you were quite a good friend, but so far you've just turned out to be bad news! Because of you I've been shouted at by my parents, beaten up in the street, nearly killed by a rabid dog, amongst several other things!'
Charlie simply couldn't believe what he was hearing.
'Fine, do you know what? I'll go. Yeah, that's right. I'll go back home, forget I said anything!'
As Charlie went to leave through the bedroom door he turned around, looking straight into Jamie's eyes for the first time ever.
'Look, I might have my own personal problems,' he said sternly, 'but at least I'm not scared of my own Dad.'
Jamie examined him for a while before giving his final verdict. 'Yeah? Well at least I've got a Dad.'
That was it, Charlie had heard enough. He sprinted down the long, wooden staircase and left through the front door; angry, upset and broken.