Happy Merry Everything (Charlie Barber)

Heart Shaped Box

Over the next few weeks, hours long talks and late night movies over the phone became the norm for you and Charlie. Every night around the same time, he'd hop off so he could FaceTime with his son on the West Coast. Whenever he called back, you could hear the pride in his voice as he waxed on about what a good kid he was, what he was like, and how well he was doing in school as was the all too present pain when spoke of how much he missed him.

There had been countless conversations. You had never mentioned that early morning in Starbucks. As hopeful as you were that it really was Charlie there that day, it made you sick to your stomach thinking of how you could have gotten all worked up for nothing. You were growing ever closer, but you still held your cards to your heart.

At one point, you'd discovered you'd been getting increasingly distracted at work and had to cut him off for a little while during the day. It was for the best. As things turned out, you had the same effect on him.

One of your favorite albeit embarrassing moments was when he messaged to let you know he had forgotten it was load in day for the show he was working on and had to get his head on straight.

Somewhere in the midst of everything going on, you two had become completely and utterly infatuated with one another. 

It was all so bizarre. You still didn't know what the other looked like, but you knew the intimate details. Like how Charlie had a scar on his left arm from where he had accidentally (and in hindsight stupidly) cut himself once. And how he knew you once broke your ankle after running down a flight of stairs.

You were sitting at your desk eating lunch one afternoon when you received a particularly odd request.

Charlie: Hey. When you're free, can you call for a minute?

You closed the lid of your salad and wiped your mouth. You scrolled to his number and hit the call button, fumbling with your earbuds while it rang.

"Hey."

"Hi. One second."

"Sure."

"Okay, hi."

"Hi."

"Hello." You replied playfully.

"So—I know you're busy, but I have a question. And you can tell me to fuck off."

Confusion settled firmly on your face.

"Okay? What's up?"

"What's your last initial?"

You nearly choked on your water. "Why?"

"I can't say."

"Then I can't tell you."

He said your name in protest. "Come on. It's one letter."

"Why do you need to know?"

He was becoming frustrated.

"I'd like to send you something today."

Your face must have been all scrunched up because Jules made a face and laughed at you from a few desks over.