Charlie hesitated in the doorway. “Are you sure?”
I’d never been more certain about anything. “Please.”
There was a long pause while she licked her lips and studied me on the bed. For a few thudding heartbeats, I thought she was going to turn me down. Then, she toed off her shoes and stripped off her socks, then walked across the room to climb over me and settle down under the covers. I switched off the light and thanks to the blackout curtains, the room was plunged into immediate darkness.
“I’m sorry,” she said again.
“Me, too,” I replied, then decided screw it. I wasn’t wasting anymore time. “Can I hold you?”
She sniffled. “Please.”
I rolled to my side and wrapped my arms around her. She buried her face into my chest and her body began to shake. Time seemed to slow to a stop as losing Gram hit me all at once. I hadn’t allowed myself a second to feel it. From the moment we realized she was gone, to getting the call from the police to inform us of her death, to identifying her body, I’d been stoic. Mom had broken down from the stress of me and Dad fighting. Dad had been overrun by guilt. My sisters, when they’d learned about her going missing, had been inconsolable. I’d been the only one to hold them all together.
“This wasn’t your fault,” she said against my shirt. “It wasn’t.”
“She left because me and dad were fighting. We’d flustered her. She left and then forgot how to get home. She was wandering around the streets, lost and alone for hours. She died alone. If someone hadn’t seen her, we may have never found her. If I hadn’t pushed him so hard, she’d still be alive.”
She was silent for a while, then she said, “By that reasoning, if I hadn’t taken up so much of Dad’s time when I was younger, he would have gone to the doctor sooner, caught the cancer sooner. Maybe he’d still be alive.”
I shook my head. “It’s not the same thing, Charlie.”
“It is,” she insisted. “Gram was sick. Very sick. I’ve talked to your mother about it. She didn’t have much longer, even with constant care. It was more a matter of making her as comfortable as possible. It was an accident, Liam.”
When I didn’t respond, she pulled back and as my eyes adjusted to the dark, I met hers as she studied me. “Do you think she’d blame you? Do you think she’d want her only grandson to shoulder that amount of guilt?”
My immediate answer wasn’t one I was willing to consider. “Get some sleep, Charlie,” I said instead.
Her free arm came around me as her body settled against mine. For the first time in nearly three weeks, I was able to fall into a deep and dreamless sleep.
** *
“Why don’tyou git and let that young lady have a moment’s peace?” My great-aunt Ida told me as she shoved me away from the refreshment buffet set up in our kitchen after Grandma Dorothy’s funeral.
Charlie hadn’t left my side over the past three days. Through funeral arrangements, receiving out of town guests, and the service itself. When I turned, she was there. After the first night of sharing a bed together, I’d moved to the couch and let her have the bed. She didn’t bring up resuming our relationship, and I didn’t ask. I was simply grateful she hadn’t left.
“He’s alright,” Charlie told her. “Besides, he gets lonely when I leave him alone.”
Aunt Ida eyed me over the tuna casserole. “Well, alright, but you let me know if he starts bothering you.”
“Yes, ma’am,” I will.
“How is it my family likes you better than me?” I asked as I made up my own plate. I wasn’t exactly hungry, but my mom was watching me like a hawk and I knew if I didn’t eat she’d beeline over to me in a heartbeat.
“I’m much prettier,” Charlie answered and popped a grape into her mouth from the fruit platter.
“And so humble,” I teased with a grin that felt like it needed to be oiled.
Charlie’s eyes softened, and I realized it was the first time I’d smiled since Grandma Dorothy died. My smile instantly fell, and I took a step toward her, plate of food forgotten on the table. “Charlie, I—”
“Liam, can I talk to you for a minute?” my father interrupted. He stopped short when he realized how close Charlie and I were standing. “It can wait until you’re done here.”
“No,” Charlie said as she pushed me in his direction. “We can talk about this later.”
When I opened my mouth to protest, Charlie glared at me. “Fine,” I said and followed Dad through the throngs of relatives to the deserted front porch. Good. At least there’d be no witnesses when we had another epic blowout and it devolved to one of us throwing punches. It wouldn’t be the first time in the south when fists were raised at a funeral.
I crossed my arms over my chest and leaned against the porch railing. “What did you want to talk about?”
He crumpled onto the porch swing, the metal chains groaning in protest, and buried his head in his hands. “I’m sorry, son. For everything I’ve said. For what I’ve done. Mom tried to tell me I was being too hard on you—when she was aware of what was going on. She tried to tell me I was pushing you away, but I didn’t listen.” He looked up then with a broken smile. “Guess that runs in the family.”
