Sincerely, Charli Day

Chapter 20

Growing up, my Dad always called me his number one drama queen. When I was in Zuckerman's class, he called me the dramatic, sarcastic legend. And Mom always swears that even my entrance into this world was dramatic.

But when I say my life has fallen apart, it's possibly an understatement.

The worst part: it's not just me. It's almost as if my entire family has forgotten how to function.

Mom tries to stay optimistic, but there are small moments, here and there, that I don't miss. Moments where she buries her head in her hands when she thinks no one is looking.

It's numbing, but moving along with the day helps. Every little thing counts.

"Hey, Atticus." I greet, dropping my bag on the floor. He smiles, offering me a hug.

The retirement center is quiet as always, which is much appreciated.

"How are you today, Charli?" He asks, taking a seat. I take my seat as well, setting my camera gently on the table.

"I've been better." My lips don't form the smile I hope for.

"Charli, you know how I tell Caden he's being a little shit when he's, well, being shit?" Atticus asks.

I purse my lips to stifle my laugh. "Always a fun time."

He cracks a lopsided smile. "It's because I care. And because I care, and I don't say this to be rude, but you don't look fine."

Lovely.

"I'm fine." I reassure.

"She's not fine." Caden trudges into the room, carrying my tripod. "She's been saying that all day, but don't let her fool you."

I glare at him. "You're starting to get on my nerves."

He ignores me, hugging Atticus. "And she won't tell me what's bothering her."

"You weren't particularly smooth when asking the first twenty times." I huff. And plus, I haven't told anyone.

"Well at least I asked." Caden argues.

"Okay, children, the fists and insults can wait. We have, what? Part seventeen of an interview to get over with. We can have a little chit chat time afterwards." Atticus interrupts sarcastically.

"I like that idea." I nod.

"Fine." Caden grumbles, helping me set up the camera.

I reach for the record button, but Caden beats me to it by half a second. I retract my hand quickly as our fingers brush.

"Okay Atticus," I clear my throat, scanning the open notebook in front of me. "We're going to start today with memories. Are there any moments from your time serving that still stand out to you today? It can be a favorite memory, or even an unpleasant encounter."

He laughs, "There were definitely a lot of fuck up moments. I don't think I have enough fingers and toes to count them all."

I raise a brow amusedly. "Shoot."

"Well," He rubs his chin. "The first one that comes to mind is plane training. We would get up before the crack of dawn and practice jumping out of these huge airplanes. Almost as terrifying as it sounds. I think by the end of my service I had jumped one hundred and forty seven times."

My jaw drops. "Holy shi-I mean poop."

Caden shakes his head from beside me, smiling. "Pops, you were the life of the party."

Atticus ignores him, focusing on me. "They were always highlights of my day. Besides the fact that the guy who was seated next to me puked every time. Punk didn't have a stomach."