Shy Charlotte’s Brand New Juju (Romantic Comedy) (15 page)

“Where do you see perfection? Our marriage is a mess.”

“No it isn’t. You simply walked in on something at the wrong
time. Again, I think, somewhere down deep, you know that.”

Charlotte closed her eyes and felt her mind slog though his words.
All these words.

Caleb’s voice grew quiet. “Listen, Charlotte, if you feel
trapped or stuck, let’s change things. I earn enough money now. Maybe it’s your
turn. You can go and earn a master’s degree in something. Start a new career.
Start a business. Hell, go start a foundation or a charity. Whatever you want.”

She leaned in toward him once again, holding her glass in
both hands and rubbing at the sides with her thumbs. She finished the glass and
poured another, motioning to the waiter for a second pitcher.

She sucked in a piece of ice from her glass and began
crunching it. When she spoke again, her voice was soft and low. “But I don’t
know what I would do.”

Caleb stayed quiet, watching her.

“That’s part of my problem,” Charlotte went on. “I feel like
I no longer know how to make myself important. I feel like I’ve wasted a couple
of decades and now I’m waking up from it all and I don’t know what to do.” She
stared at the table and let her eyes shift in and out of focus. “I used to have
potential. It used to be important to me that I live an important life.”

“Don’t you see? You are the most important person in the
world.”

“To you. And to the girls. But that’s where my significance
ends.”  

Caleb watched her fill her lungs with air and release it in
short puffs. Then he said, “Charlotte, you are everything to me and to our girls.
What is that quote? ‘To the world you are person; but to one person you are the
world.’”

She imagined then, her body growing larger, larger, and
looming over the earth, where she could spot her wee children and husband, down
on some distant shore, wavy and dreamlike.  “I don’t do anything but parent my
kids and take care of my husband,” she said, low. “This is what my life has
become.”

“Maybe that’s what is most important, at least for right
now.” His eyes were so light. Arctic blue and dreamy, Charlotte thought, and
she was having a hard time focusing on his words as he went on. “You are
raising lovely young women who know their own power. The power of being real
and kind. And if you want to do something else, you can start. It’s not like
you are over the hill.”

Charlotte was quiet while Caleb refilled her glass. He went
on. “You’re looking to get your groove back, but it’s only here—living with
Fiona—that you find it missing. Your groove is at home.”

She shook her head and looked away from those hypnotic eyes.
What was he doing to her? “Sure,” she scoffed, trying to break his spell. “You
would like that.”

“Yes, I would like that. You, at home. That doesn’t mean I
want to control you. Just stop letting people tell you there’s something wrong
with you. That there’s something wrong with the way you define happiness. That
there’s something wrong with what you have chosen to excel at.”

“That’s just it. I excel at nothing.”

“Let’s see. Parenting your daughters. Advocating for your
kids. Helping me. Keeping me sane…”

“But,” she interrupted. “Somewhere along the line, I forgot
to have a career. I forgot myself. Yes, I know you and the girls’ worlds
revolve around me. Maybe that’s part of the problem. You know, I could have
been a doctor or a lawyer or…anything.

“I don’t doubt that. Not at all. But would you enjoy being a
lawyer?”

“No.”

“Would you enjoy being a doctor?”

“Not even a tiny bit,” she conceded and then she laughed.

“Then I guess you’ve made some sound decisions.”

She was quiet again. Her head felt wonky, and she tried to
ground herself by fixing her gaze on her glass.

Caleb leaned in toward her. “Now, do you enjoy being my
wife? Do you enjoy being my children’s mother?”

Her eyes filled with tears. Of course she did. Or she once
did. But there was still that empty place inside her. And, if it couldn’t be
filled by a career, then what would fill it?

“You can just try different things out until you find
something you like,” he offered.

 Silence for a beat, then Charlotte said, “And what if I
don’t find it?”

“Then you start over again with something else.”

She raised the glass to her lips once more.  “I don’t know
if I have time for that anymore.”

“How many times did you watch me fail, Charlotte? How many
rejection letters did we get? We could have wallpapered the bathroom with them.
All our bathrooms. Maybe even the bedrooms. And yet you were the one who said,
someday, someday. And now someday is here. And now it’s your turn.”

“To fail?”

“Sure. If that’s what it takes. And it usually is, at least
a little. But we have
this
,”
he motioned back and forth between
them. “We each have a soft place to fall at the end of the day.”

“Is this Caleb-the-philosopher-novelist talking?” She knew
she was slurring her words now. She took a deep breath and tried to focus on
him. His forehead made funny creases when he talked.

“As we get older, Charlotte, I think more than anything,
that’s what we learn. We layer things. Things in our life layer, one on top of
another. We fuck up. We forgive. We layer.”

She plucked her straw from the table and began dunking it in
and out of her glass, poking at ice cubes. She wasn’t sure what he was talking
about anymore. Were they ever going to order some food?

***

Caleb was a little worried after she ordered the third
pitcher. He’d only had a single glass. Since when could she drink like this? Or
at all? The woman could catch a buzz from a splash of Bailey’s Irish Cream.

They had started out with a nice conversation about her
future—their future— about what it would take for her to feel content and happy,
and then she had started in again, going on and on about him and some waitress
from Arturo’s.

How was he going to get her to understand that
she
was the one who had run off? That she was the one dating around? He shuddered.
That pimply bodybuilding Polish guy. The thought of him, with her. It made him
want to kick a hole in the wall.

He wasn’t going to let his family fall apart. No way.

Charlotte slurred something about how her sister said she
should have more fun. How she should
be
more fun. But she was plenty
fun, naturally. Drunk Charlotte, not so fun. He had to get her out of this town
before Fiona did any more damage.

Then giggly, drunk Charlotte asked him to take her home. To
make love to her. And that’s when he formulated a new plan.

Ach. Her head. And the taste in her mouth. She sat up
straight, then flopped back again. 

What the hell? She wasn’t wearing a stitch.  At least she
was alone. Thank God, she was alone. Her mind flashed on Leopold. Then Ed. Then
Caleb. Who had been there last night? Okay, Caleb. And she was home, at
Fiona’s. Caleb had taken care of her.

She brushed her teeth before making her way down the stairs,
tripping a bit on the last riser, and then she made her way into the dining
room.

A paper box filled with doughnuts sat at the center of the
dining room table, amid the fresh fruit, the nonfat Greek yogurt, the pitcher
of freshly squeezed orange juice and the shiny porcelain coffee carafe.

“Look, Aunt Charlotte!” announced a jubilant Maddox, “Uncle
Caleb brought us
special
bagels.”

Charlotte smiled and winked at him. “Those are called ‘doughnuts,’
honey, which, I guess, in a way is a special bagel. A very, very special
bagel.”

Fiona cleared her throat. Her mouth was set in a tight line.

“These are the kind of bagels we eat where I’m from,”
Charlotte added, “according to your mama.”

“Maybe,” Maddox said, “because Uncle Caleb says they are the
best. I’m glad he’s staying here now.”

Charlotte pressed on her temple. “No, honey. Uncle Caleb
isn’t staying here. Remember? Just me and the girls.”

“Yes, he is.” Maddox pointed to the other end of the dining
room, where Caleb was now entering. He was wearing the same clothes he had worn
the night before, but somehow they looked pressed. Clean. He had showered and
combed his hair.

“That’s right. Maddox,” Caleb said. “Me and you sneaked out
and got them early this morning. Before anyone else was up, didn’t we?”

Maddox beamed, and Fiona glared at them.  “My kids have
never had a doughnut in their lives.”

“Evidently,” Caleb said, laughing.

“And look, Auntie Charlotte! Some of them have sparkles up
top of them.”

“Most people call those sprinkles,” Caleb said.

“I like ‘sparkles.’”

“Okay, well would you like a sparkly one?” Caleb asked.

Maddox pumped his head up and down, his eyes growing round.

“These rainbow sparkles? Or these white sparkles?”

He pointed, and Caleb handed it over. No plate, no napkin.
“A sparkly, special bagel just for Maddox.”

“And which one would you like, Maxwell?”

Fiona interjected. “How about they split one?”

“I want a whole one. Because it’s a special, special day,”
Maxwell said, “Uncle Caleb said so.”

Fiona closed her eyes.

Uncle Caleb winked and slid his hand behind Charlotte’s
back. Gracie squinted toward them and Hannah’s face brightened. That’s when Fiona
told the kids they should have a picnic with their sticky, special bagels
outside. She stood to shoo them out of the room, following closely behind. Just
as she reached the doorframe, she spun to bug her eyes out at Charlotte. “Do
you want me to kick him out?” she mouthed, pantomiming with a jerky motion of
her leg.

Charlotte gave a single shake of her head and shut her eyes,
then turned to face Caleb. He whispered now, though there was no one left in
the house to overhear him. “It
is
a special, special day.”

Charlotte saw Gracie and Hannah outside, standing on tiptoes
to look in through the dining room window. She yanked Caleb into the hallway.

“What the hell is going on?” Her breath was tight.

“You don’t remember? Really? You were the one who brought me
here. Begged me, really.”

Bits and pieces of it were drifting in. Oh mercy.

“Did I eat anything?”

“No. Never got around to that. But, man, did you ever tie
one on. And then the sex.” He was whispering again and looking her straight in
the eyes. “Don’t tell me you don’t remember it.”

She did, then, in dizzy snippets. Her stomach flipped. His
hands on her. On her back, pushing gently along her spine, caressing and
touching every inch of her. Even the soles of her feet. Her breasts. The nape
of her neck. And then she had responded. It was like stepping back into another
time of her life, a decade or so ago. It was like she had channeled a former
Charlotte, one with no need to change anything whatsoever about herself.

“I can see, by that stunned expression, that you are
remembering. Charlotte, you were wild. Like crazy, wildcat wild. Like…”

She shook her head. “Alright. I get it.”

“I just wish I had known sooner what tequila does to you.
And the empty stomach. I would have been feeding you a steady diet of that and
nothing else since, like, the 1990s.”

“Oh my God, the kids.” She put her hand to her mouth.

“Don’t worry. We were discreet.”

“But you’re still here. That’s got to be a little
confusing.”

“What’s confusing about it? I’m your husband, and I’m their
dad. We went out last night and we came home together. If anything, they are
relieved to see me here. Did you see Hannah’s face?”

“Okay, maybe. But what comes next will be confusing.” Her
whisper was rasping, panicky.

“Why? What comes next?”

“I don’t know.” She pressed a finger to her temple. “But
it’s not like we’re going to pick up where we left off. Before. I haven’t told
you I am taking you back.”

“Yes you did. Last night. You said something like, ‘Well, you
don’t smell like cinnamon rolls, but what the hell.’ And then…” Caleb’s eyes
went wide. “There is absolutely no way I’m giving you up now. Don’t you get it
yet? You are my everything.” 

Yeah, she thought. Editor. Secretary. Maid. Prostitute.
Nanny. That had to be nice. “I’ve got to get to work,” she said.

“No, you don’t.”

“Yes. They need me there.”

He tilted his head to one side and studied her face. “What
if I said
I
needed you?”

“I would say, you already said that, and I need to go to
work.”

“Okay, what if I said I needed you to go to work with me?” 

“Yeah, well, they pay me.”

He rubbed the back of his neck. “I’ll pay you.”

Her stomach rolled, and she waved her hand toward him, then
slid into the guest bathroom. She turned the sink on full blast and splashed
water on her face until the crush of nausea ebbed and the water had grown hot
enough to scald. When she turned off the faucet, she could hear Caleb’s voice,
just outside the door.

She wiped her face on the towels and breathed in the fresh
lemony scent. This made the nausea return and so she sank down along the wall,
settling on the slate floor, where she waited until she could no longer hear
Caleb’s voice outside. Then she creaked open the door and tiptoed into the
hallway.

“Where you going, Jellybean?”

She startled. “To work.”

“You’re in no condition. I just called in sick for you.”

“You’ve got to be kidding.”

“Not to worry. She said she didn’t need you anyway.”

Yep, that is exactly what Tabitha would have said.

“But
I
do,” Caleb continued. “I need you. And I’m not
taking no for an answer.” He folded his arms.

“How did you even know where I work?”

He chuckled. “You don’t remember anything about our
conversation last night, do you?”

“I do. Some of it.” Charlotte’s voice faded. “Some things
are coming back to me.”

“Since when do you drink like that? Is that all part of The
New Charlotte? Is this all part of The Transformation Pact?”  

She opened her mouth, and then looked at the floor.  

“Because it kind of seems like the more you try to change
yourself, the more you start to unravel.”

Unravel?

“It’s like…” He laughed. “It’s like you’re trying to turn
into your sister.”

Her breath caught in her throat.
Who did he think he was?
Her cheeks burned, and she felt that sensation again, the one she had felt from
time to time in their marriage. The feeling that he was keeping her just under
his thumb. Maybe she could rise up, here and there and just a little, but he
would snap that thumb back down; push her back down, down where she belonged.
Her breath came faster and she imagined herself in a giant whack-a-mole
carnival game. She pops up and he lobs the mallet toward her.
Get back in
the hole, mole!
She was right to be out here, at Fiona’s house. She was
right to be doing this, to be on her own once again. To not be sitting in some
shaded living room under some man’s thumb. But to be out here. To be living her
own life, where no one could push her down.

“I mean, what’s with the plastic surgery?” Caleb sucked his
cheeks in. “She’s had so much Botox her face shines. And what did they put
inside her lips?

“Get out, Caleb.” The words surged out of her with a force
she didn’t recognize, and she found herself lunging toward him.

“Charlotte, I was joking. I meant it as a compliment.” He
reached toward her with both arms, and his voice raised in pitch, “I don’t want
you to be like your sister. Not at all.”

She placed both hands in the center of his chest and pushed
backward, shoving with a strength that astonished even her. When she reached
the entry door, she opened it with one hand and thrust him out with the other.

***

Caleb stood on the front porch, staring at the door his wife
had just muscled him out of.
What was that all about
? She had looked
remarkably like she had in that vision of his, that alarming image with the box
cutters. Her eyes were so crazed and it had all come along so suddenly. It
would have made him laugh, if he wasn’t so, so screwed.

He hadn’t been making fun of her, if that’s what she
thought. He was trying to help her understand how silly these last few weeks
had been. He was trying to help her to see that they needed to go home, to get
out of this place, which was filled with nut jobs and people who were making her
feel weird and less than.

He had been so close. Just hours before, she had been right
in his arms, stroking his skin with the tips of her nails and saying that they
were fine. That he was right…that
she
was the one with the problem and
that she knew he hadn’t screwed around. Granted, she was slurring her words as
she said it, but didn’t people always tell the truth when they drank too much?
And now, hours later, she shoved him out of the house in a rage.  

Now what?

***

Charlotte stood under the hot stream of the shower, hoping
it would somehow liquefy the cobwebs that had formed inside her mind. It was
having no such effect, and she was tired of standing, so she sank down on the
tile, drawing her knees up and watching the rivulets of water pour down her
thighs.

After a time, she dried off and dressed and joined her
sister and her daughters, who were now sitting in the bright sunshine of the
garden, watching the boys perform a handclapping routine Hannah had made up.
When Fiona saw her, she nudged the boys toward the path, and then followed
behind, resting one hand on the back of each head as she steered them up toward
the house.

Charlotte chose a spot just on the edge of the stone bench,
next to Hannah. There, the three sat for a moment, swinging their bare feet,
all of which looked just like Charlotte’s. A big toe, blocky and square, and
then the rest of the digits spread too far apart. How she loved every ounce of
these girls. Every hair and particle and ounce.  

After a time, Hannah turned to her. “Wow, Mom,” she said.

Charlotte squinted in the sun and looked toward her. Hannah
pursed her lips and Gracie shifted her attention to the ground.

Charlotte was glad, suddenly, that Caleb had called in sick
for her. This was why she had never gone to work in the first place, why she
had never left her daughters when they were small: The fear that one day they
would look at her in this disconnected way.

“Now what happens?” Gracie asked, finally, her voice barely
a whisper.

Charlotte didn’t answer right away, and Gracie rolled her
eyes.

“I don’t know, sweetie,” Charlotte said. She shuddered, deep
in the center of her chest. After a beat, she said, “Let’s spend the day
together. Just us.”

“What would we do?” Hannah asked.  

“Whatever you want.”

They were silent for a moment, through the trill of a bird,
the rustle of leaves.

“I know what I want to do.” Hannah said.

“Okay, sure.” Charlotte brightened. “Whatever it is.”

“Let’s get you a makeover. At Fiona’s salon.”

Charlotte brought her hand to her face. “Okay. If that’s
what you both want to do.”

Fiona was bouncing her way down the stone path now, swinging
her hips and fixing her eyes on Charlotte.

“Aunt Fiona, can you give Mom a makeover today?” Hannah
asked as she approached. 

“Are you kidding?” Fiona clapped her hands together. “I
would clear my calendar to give your mama a makeover, any day of the year. And
it just so happens that I have time this morning. Why don’t you girls go and
get ready?”

So dismissed, the girls rose and made their way toward the
house, clearing the way for Fiona to start in. “So,” she said in a clipped
tone. “Caleb spent the night? What the hell, Charlotte?”

Charlotte groaned. “I don’t know.” She tumbled off the stone
bench and lay flat on the patch of grass nearby. She folded her arms over her
face and pressed against her eye sockets until she saw spots. “I am truly an
idiot.”

“No offense, but, yes, you are. Caleb cheated on you. Probably
multiple times. Surely I don’t need to remind you of that.”

“I’m not sure he did.”

“Of course he did.”  

“Maybe he didn’t. Maybe I wanted out. Maybe I just wanted to
blame him, and maybe I wanted to wriggle out of my marriage.”

Fiona bugged her eyes out. “Seriously? He is doing a number
on you, isn’t he? One night with him and you are convinced that you are the bad
guy. Not him.”