To Build a Home

15 | Rearview

I waited in Phil and Theresa's room as Charlie packed his clothes and loaded the rental car. Anna was gone for the day and Darren was still at work, so Noah and I sat on the carpet in the middle of the bedroom watching cartoons on the tablet. The door was open and I could see the long empty hallway, waiting for Charlie to appear.

He made one final trip. I could tell by how slowly he climbed the stairs that it was his last. He stood at the top and said, "I'm heading out." Like it was the period to a very long sentence that had lost its way somewhere in the middle, avoiding the inevitable.

"Go say goodbye to Charlie, Noah," I said.

Noah put the tablet down and waddled over to Charlie. I followed and stopped at the threshold of the room, leaning on the doorframe with my arms crossed. I watched Charlie bend down and hug Noah. He told him to keep an eye on me. "Uncle Ryan is making a big sacrifice for you," he said. "I hope you look back and appreciate it."

I rolled my eyes and wished him a safe trip. We kept our distance and avoided looking at each other. It was hard to believe that only that morning we had been in our cocoon. I wondered, again, if there was anything I could have done to prevent it from happening, but I knew it was useless. Charlie had made his decision. He had said if I couldn't go to New York with him now, there would be no point in coming back later. I think he was just hurt.

Charlie said goodbye without looking at me and I watched him walk down the stairs and out the front door. I picked up Noah so he wouldn't follow. Just as I heard the car door slam and the engine come alive, I thought, what am I doing? It was like the night of homecoming all over again––if I had just stopped my brother from leaving, maybe we could have avoided the silence of that whole last month in our childhood home. With Noah in my arms, I ran down the stairs and flung open the door. I screamed Charlie's name as I ran to the sidewalk and watched him pull away. I stood in the middle of the street, waving my free arm and bouncing Noah on my hip, but Charlie couldn't see me or wasn't looking in the rearview mirror. I didn't blame him.

As I watched him drive away, I thought about the day he had asked me to move in. We were getting ready to go to the Museum of Modern Art for a fundraiser and he still wasn't dressed when I had arrived at his place. "What are you doing?" I had asked, tussling my wet hair, drops of water tap dancing on the wood floor.

"This chapter was practically writing itself. I couldn't stop." He held up his arms to surrender like I was a pirate looting his ship and slowly backed away from his computer. His place was covered with clothes and blankets, used coffee mugs, and empty bags of vegan cookies. It had always looked like a tornado hit when he was on a writing binge. He somehow forgot how to wash a dish or throw away containers, as if those small tasks prevented him from finding the greatest sentence ever written.

"We're going to miss the unveiling," I had said, already picking up trash and laundry. "Go get dressed."

As I tidied the apartment and he got ready, he told me about the chapter he had just written. I didn't pay close attention, I was too anxious about the rain and getting a taxi and beating the traffic. "You only think about yourself," I interrupted.

He reappeared in a black tuxedo, his hair slicked back and face cleanly shaven. He was a different person. "Move in with me," he said. When I rolled my eyes and ignored the proposal, he jumped on the couch, shoes and all, and said it again. "I'm serious. Move in with me. This will never happen again."

"So I can be your maid? No thanks."

"Ok, you won't be a maid. Give me another reason." He was bouncing now.

"I hate the smell of coffee." I dropped the mugs into the sink.

"I'll drink it on the fire escape. Next."

"We have completely different schedules. You'll keep me up at night and I'll wake you up in the morning."

"I've been meaning to become a morning person. Seriously, give me a real reason."

"Are you ready?" I asked. I headed for the door.

"Don't make me do it," he said. He held his hand on the fly of his pants like it was a trigger on a gun. Ever since our first date, whenever he thought things weren't going well––there had been a string of very bad third, fourth, and fifth dates before we had made it to magic number six––he spontaneously unzipped his pants and waited for me to laugh. He'd go to great lengths to make me notice his crotch in the park or the grocery store. It was his way of reminding me why we worked––just two lonely people in New York, laughing while everyone around us was oblivious to the humor right in front of them. The Paris Theater.

"We don't have time for this." I crossed my arms in front of my chest.

He unzipped his pants. He knew I wanted to laugh, but I fought the urge. He put his hands behind his head and thrust his hips from side to side, biting his lip like he was in Magic Mike. "If you don't say you'll move in with me, I'll walk around all night like this. And I won't try to hide it. You'll be so embarrassed."

"This isn't going very well for you," I said.

"Just picture it. All of our stuff in one place, no shuffling back and forth. Morning sex. So much morning sex."

"How do we know it will even work? What if we break up after two days?"

He jumped off the couch and walked towards me. "We can do a trial run. Bring a few things over and see how it goes cohabitating."

"You assume we'll move in here?" I looked around at the mess.

"That settles it. Now say yes before I start removing all of my clothing."

It had taken a few more weeks to convince me and a few more after that for me to pack a bag. I guess I always knew that we weren't compatible. But I wondered, when we really needed it, why he didn't try to remind me that it was us against the world. He could have done it at the graveyard or in the car or in the hallway, unzipped his fly or played it like an instrument, demanding that I remember us. Maybe it was a trick he had used up or he knew it was never really the thing that had convinced me that Charlie was worth loving. Either way, he was gone, and all his tricks along with him.

I looked at the brick house from the street and wondered, what now?

Author's Note: Thanks for reading, commenting, voting, and adding to your libraries! I really appreciate all the love <3