Save Me (15 page)

T
he banging on the screen door startles me. The sight of Margo on the other side of it elates me. I run over and open it for her and hug her until she can’t breathe.

“What are you doing here?” I ask, not really caring, just thankful she’s with me. “Please tell me you’re moving home today.”

“No.” Margo shakes her head. She and Jenn have made it painfully clear they are not moving home. “It’s my grandmother’s birthday tonight. Eighty years. Any of this sounding familiar?” There’s a vague recollection forming in my mind. “I texted you weeks ago and told you the date.”

“Yes. I kind of remember.” I turn and walk into the kitchen with Margo following me. “Eighty, huh? God bless her.”

“Oh, he has. She’s a treat,” Margo says, and I remember the time her grandmother snuck us liquor in high school at her brother’s graduation party. “Remember, we’re supposed to have a little reunion tomorrow? Sam’s coming down from Philly. Does any of this ring a bell?”

“It does. I’m sorry. I’ve been…” What have I been?
Fucked up.
“I’ve been really overwhelmed with Butch and—”

“Margo! What are you doing here?” Noble walks over and hugs Margo.

“We’re having a party tomorrow,” Margo says as she stands on tiptoes to hug Noble.

“Is that what Shabo’s coming to town for?”

“Yes. I guess Charlotte forgot to tell you. I’m here for my grandmother’s eightieth tonight, and tomorrow is all about us.”

“She did forget, but who can blame her?” Noble kisses my cheek, knowing I forgot because my brain doesn’t function anymore. “Let’s party here,” he offers, and I immediately cramp up.

Why not?
Of course we can party here. It just seems like such an unhappy place these days. Why would anyone want to party here? This is probably exactly what Noble needs, some joy filling the house. I hope it’s exactly what I need, too.

“I have to go. I just wanted to check in with you,” Margo says to me, and turns to Noble. “What time do you want us tomorrow?”

“Come around three. We’ll start early.”

“Oh geez. It’s going to be one of those nights,” I say. “We can’t disturb Butch.”

“We won’t bother a soul in that house,” Noble says, and I hope that’s true.

Margo slips out the back door and I latch it behind her. I watch her walk to her car and stare in silence as Jason approaches her. It should be normal. They’ve known each other since kindergarten. His father is dying. It feels utterly sinister, though.

“Charlotte, do you hear me?” Noble says, half laughing, and I turn and rush away from the door.

“Sorry.”

“That’s okay. Are you excited Margo’s home?”

“She and Jenn always make things better,” I say. My mind is still on Jason talking to Margo.

“They’ll be better soon. Just hold on,” Noble says, and I love him. “Hold on to me if you have to.” I wrap my arms around his waist and hold him tight.

“Are you going to Butch’s this afternoon?”

“I think I’m going to wait a while. Maybe after dinner. When are you going to be done?”

“Another couple of hours. Why don’t you let me take you out to dinner tonight? I feel like sushi.”

“Hmm. Me too.” Guilt washes over me. How dare I go out to dinner while death keeps performing next door?

Noble leaves, returns to his work, and I vacuum the downstairs. I used to work. I used to function every day without considering imminent death. New York is a lifetime away.

 When I finish, I pick up my phone to check the weather for tomorrow. There’s a text from Margo:

I could write back and ask her what about, but I already know. We need to talk about Jason, about Charlotte and Jason. Really it’s about how Jason is trying to ruin Charlotte’s life, or is it how Charlotte’s trying to ruin her own life? I can’t even figure out whose fault this is anymore. I’m lost, as usual, and I’m starting to hate us both.

I delete the text and put the phone in my bag hanging on the back of the kitchen chair. I finish cleaning the house and when I notice Jason’s truck is gone, I walk over to Butch’s. Marie and Jay are coloring at the kitchen table; Butch is lying in the hospital bed in the family room. Any joy I felt with Margo’s arrival drains from my body, leaving an empty shell moving around Butch’s house.

I stand over Butch’s bed and squeeze his hand. I wish he would wake up and be an asshole for a little while. Say something nasty. I glance back over my shoulder at Marie. She’s here practically twenty-four hours a day. How does she do it?

“Marie, would you like to get out of here for a while? Maybe go see your sister?” I ask as I return to the kitchen. Marie looks at me as if the idea is absurd. “It might do you some good. It’s refreshing to get out,” I say, and Jay studies me, trying to figure out what’s happening.

“I do have a few errands to run. Can you and Jason Jr. take care of Butch for a little while?” she asks.

“What do you think, Jay? Can you help me take care of Pops?”

Jay nods his head proudly. Marie hugs me before grabbing her purse from the counter.

“We’re having a barbeque tomorrow night at our house,” I say, and Marie looks at me kindly. “I’m afraid it’s going to be too loud. That it might disturb you guys.”

“Nothing is going to disturb Butch and I’ll be fine. It will do me good to hear someone having fun. And I’m sure it will do Nick good to have some fun with you,” she says, and adds, “Don’t worry about things over here. You’ve got a lot on your plate, taking care of all these boys.”

“I’m only in charge of BJ.”

“The rest just need to be near you,” Marie says as Jay walks over and climbs up into my arms.

“What color?” he asks, holding a crayon too close to my face.

“Blue,” I answer. “Today we’ll learn a lot of colors. How’s that sound?”

Jay nods and climbs down to get the box of crayons. I watch him as Marie touches my elbow and disappears out the door.

Jay and I sort all the crayons by color and master the different color names. By the time we’re done, he knows yellow, green, blue, black, and red by heart, and we have created several beautiful pictures. I started to make a beach scene on mine but recognized I was only immaturely taunting his father. I changed it to a flower. We hang all the pictures on the fridge and step back, appraising our work together. The collection is a sign of life. Jay is a sign of life.

“I think it’s time for you to take a nap,” I say, realizing it’s after two. “Do you want to lie down on the couch? Annie will put the TV on something you like.” Jay shakes his head. I’ll bet this house is a very scary place. “How about if we rock in the recliner? You, Pops, and Annie can all take a nap together.”

We cuddle in the recliner and I cover us with a throw. It’s warm and cozy, and Jay is still small enough to fit perfectly in my arms.

“Annie?”

“Yes.” For some reason him calling me Annie is more right than anyone else.

“Where Pops goin’?”

I take a deep breath and let it out slow. What has Jason told him? What do you tell a two-year-old about death? What do you tell a twenty-five-year-old about death?

“He’s going home. He’s going to be with God in heaven,” I say, and Jay just stares at me. “He’ll be happy there, and even though we’re really going to miss him, we’ll be happy he’s there, too.”

I think of my mother and my father and of Mrs. Leer, and I look at the ceiling to keep from crying. I rock Jay until he’s almost asleep. I turn the chair and raise the footrest. After a few minutes I close my eyes and join Jay and Butch, asleep in the death house.

The hacking wakes me. It goes on until I think some organ has dislodged and then it stops and Butch’s eyes close again. My eyes wander from the corners of the ceiling down, along the bookcase, and down to the hospital bed in front of me. Jay’s face is on my chest, his hand in my hair, and he’s hot on me. I uncover us and lean up a little.

I can feel Jason in the room and when I turn the recliner, he’s watching us from a chair by the bedroom. He doesn’t look evil, or devious, or treacherous, only beautiful sitting quietly on the edge of the room. We stare at each other without speaking, or smiling, or thinking. I’m sure I could spend the rest of my life in this position. I will spend the rest of Butch’s here.

“What time is it?” I whisper.

“It’s five,” he says. The expression on his face never changes. He’s lost in his thoughts and that’s more terrifying than telling me everything. “Your phone’s been dinging. Someone’s looking for you.”

“I should get back…”
Home. I should get back home.
Jason doesn’t move, and Jay doesn’t move. Watching him lying in my arms, I question how he could be the result of anything but love. The thought makes me sadder, but I’m already at the bottom so I can’t tell the difference. “He should wake up, too, or else you’ll never get him to sleep tonight,” I say, and behold Jay’s sweet face one more time.

I sit up, straightening the chair with me, and I pull the hair off Jay’s sweaty face. I kiss his forehead to stir him and when he does, I lean forward and he sits up, too. Jay slumps over and lays his head back on me, wrapping his arms around my neck and grabbing my hair. Apparently he’s as good at letting go as his father. I rub his back roughly to wake him.

“Mommy,” he says, and I’m a little repulsed.

“No, Jay. You’ve got to go home to Mommy. She’s probably wondering where you are. I’ll bet she misses you,” I say, and stand up and walk to Jason. He stands and takes Jay from me, never releasing me from his stare. He’s a ticking time bomb, ready to explode at any minute. Stupid Charlotte wants to ask him what’s wrong, but smart, sane Charlotte just grabs her bag on the way out of the house. It’s empowering to have actually made a good decision for once. I’m proud of myself as I walk across the yard and into the kitchen.

My pride disappears at the sight of a pissed-off Noble. He’s pacing in the kitchen and stops to share his distaste in a horrendous glare when he sees me.

“What?”

“I was worried. I didn’t know where you were.”

“I was at Butch’s. Where else would I be?”

“You said you were going to go after dinner.”

“Why didn’t you just come over there?”

“I saw the truck…” Noble’s words trail off, and I close my eyes as a pain stabs behind my left one. I can’t keep ahead of all their emotions, all their needs. Butch dying has screwed up the obvious line created by my wedding, and now some people are jumping ahead. I feel like screaming, but I know I owe Noble more than that. If only there was something left.

“Let me just freshen up and we’ll go, okay? We’ll get out of here for a little while,” I say, and walk upstairs without waiting for an answer from Noble. Something’s got to give on the Sinclair farm.

After dinner, I make Noble take me to the driving range where I quickly display every reason I was never on the golf team.

“Wow, you’re terrible,” he says, laughing the entire time.

“I know. Absolutely horrible.” I watch Noble power the ball farther out than any other golfer. “You, on the other hand, are fantastic,” I say, and bounce my eyebrows at him.

“I had no idea golf turns you on.”

“Let’s see…you plowing a field, you painting a room, you in a suit, you playing golf…there seems to be a common denominator.” Noble leans over the divider and kisses me, inviting me to love him.

I take another shot and it almost hits the man three stalls down.

“Sorry,” I yell down with an innocent wave. The man is not appeased. “Isn’t this the part where you are supposed to come over and wrap your arms around me and ‘show me how it’s done’?” I ask Noble dramatically.

“Hell no. I don’t want anyone to even know I’m here with you and God knows there’s no helping that swing.” He continues to hit his balls with his back to me. I slip my club between his legs and when he’s set to swing, I raise it slightly, grazing his balls and making him jump.

“Charlotte Sinclair! Have you no civility?” Noble is smiling his amazing smile and if it weren’t for BJ—okay, and Butch—I would never go back to the farm again.

“I’m not going to behave. We should just go,” I say, completely serious. I’m done with the driving range.

“Where do you want to go? Because I’m not taking you back there. Not yet anyway.”

“Let’s get some ice cream and have sex in the truck somewhere,” I offer.

“Or maybe just skip the ice cream,” Noble says, and picks up our buckets and clubs. I follow him.

I wake up to Margo jumping in my bed.

“Hey,” I say, still overwhelmingly thankful for her arrival. “How’s Granny?”

“She’s eighty and still raising hell.”

“As it should be.” Margo climbs under the covers with me. It reminds me of a million years ago when we would lie in bed talking for hours. We had so much to talk about back then. It all seems like nothing now.

“Where’s Noble?”

“He just went out to the grocery store to buy food for today.”

“How did he seem?” I ask, grateful for help in figuring this whole thing out.

“Better than Jason,” she says, and I realize there’s no help. “I talked to him yesterday. It sounds like you two have been through hell.”

“We’re still going through it. That’s the thing—it’s hell with him. That’s not how life should be.”

“To be fair, you’re both living under some horrible circumstances,” Margo says, but I don’t want to be fair. “He loves you, Charlotte. I’ve never been surer of anything in my life. He loves you.”

I sigh. “I know he does.”

“And he wants you back.”

“I know he does.” I stare at the freshly painted ceiling of Noble’s and my bedroom.

“Look, I’m the queen of holding a grudge, but he moved me. He’s going to spend the rest of his life trying to get you back. He made me believe that you should give him a second chance.”

“Do you realize what you’re saying? Where you’re saying it?” I ask, disgusted this conversation is taking place at all, let alone in Noble’s bed.

“I’m not saying you should give him a second chance. I’m just saying he made me think you should.”