Page 53 of Every Almost

Charlie had been watching this whole exchange, and had become increasingly interested when she heard 'Fleetwood Mac.' She still remembered the first time Frank had played their music for her on his 8-track player in the garage, and was excited to hear they had released something new, something she had never heard before. Something she would get to hear for thefirst time right next to Frank and Helen and Katie, the most important people in her life.

She was so game for this moment.

"You do it," Frank said, pointing to the needle ready to be set on top the record.

"Are you sure?" Charlie asked.

"Absolutely. I trust you, kid. You know the value of that there record more than almost anyone else in Shelbyville. Well, perhaps besides all of us in this room, at least." He smiled at her and encouraged her on. "Go ahead."

Charlie picked up the arm and put the needle on the record, and waited those few seconds for the intro track to start up. And it did. Frank walked over and settled into his chair, ready to enjoy the musical enlightenment Charlie could see he was expecting to experience with this new musical treat. Helen joined him on the arm of his chair, and they sat together, listening to the sounds fill the room with the voices of Mick Fleetwood, John McVie, Christine McVie, Lindsey Buckingham, and Stevie Nicks.

Charlie went back to sit on the floor with Katie. Charlie knew she loved the band, her favorite tracks "Rhiannon" and "Landslide" memorized in her very soul. But she'd never heard the band like this, through a proper stereo, the full album laid out the way the artists intended.

She listened through side A. Frank watched her from his chair, saying nothing, but that smile he held whenever he saw one of his girls falling in love with their newest passion.

Side B started and Charlie continued to listen, as did the rest of them in the house. It reminded Charlie of a cathedral, everyone so quiet as to not disturb the sounds and holy voices.

It was when Track Four began that had Charlie stop breathing.

"Songbird." Its spare piano and that voice barely above a whisper. Christine McVie singing something so tender and so honest that Charlie felt her chest tighten inexplicably.

When the needle lifted at the end of the track, Charlie looked up at Frank, and found him already watching her.

"Can I hear that one again?" She smiled at him, her voice near insistent in her question.

Frank got up from his chair without a word, lifted the needle, and set it back at the beginning of the track before he sat down again. This time, Charlie closed her eyes and felt the song pump through her veins as it played through.

The second time through, Charlie became aware of something that settled in her and made a home. It was clear as day now, after hearing "Songbird," and "My Girl" when she and Katie were younger humming it on the way home, and "Heroes" when she stopped and listened and felt she could understand the secrets of love once the song was over, and "Don't Let the Sun Go Down on Me" when she needed that reminder that she was in charge of who can make her feel inferior as long as she stayed true to herself. It came together, stitched itself into her heart, and became a core piece of Charlie, all in those few seconds after "Songbird" played through a second time.

Music was the way to define feelings. Every song could give you explanation for why you felt one way, or just how it made you feel all by itself. It gave you truth. Maybe in ways you might not want sometimes, but always honest. And sometimes the truest confessions were too big for words, so a piano and a voice and a message were the only language that could make you feel 'yeah, that's it.'

At the time, Charlie didn't know "Songbird" would become the most important song in her life for so many reasons. But what she did know was that it was the most beautiful song she had ever heard, and that Frank had been the one to give it to her.

The acceptance letterarrived on a rainy Tuesday in March. Charlie read it standing at the kitchen counter with her coat still on and her boots leaving wet prints on the linoleum in the Wickett house. She read it twice, and then a third time, because the words refused to rearrange themselves into something more believable.

Charlie had earned an acceptance and full scholarship to the California Institute of Technology.

She went very still, the way she did when something was too big to process at normal speed. She needed a minute. She needed to take it apart in her head, understand all the pieces, make sure the architecture held.

It held.

She didn't tell her parents first. She walked down the hall to Katie's bedroom, where her twelve-year-old sister was lying on her stomach on the carpet, doing homework with a pencil in one hand and a packet of Pop Rocks in the other. At the sound of Charlie entering, Katie grabbed the candy and shoved it under her notebook, looking up at Charlie like a deer in headlights. When she saw it was her sister, she relaxed.

"I'm not here to take away your candy," Charlie said, trying to keep a straight face.

"I know," Katie said, pulling the Pop Rocks back out and offering them to Charlie. "I thought you were Mom."

Charlie took a few, the sugar crackling against her teeth as she sat down on the edge of Katie's bed. Katie went back to her homework until she looked up again and realized Charlie was holding something.

"What's that?" Katie asked, pointing at the paper. Charlie looked down at it, still not believing it was real, then held it out.

Katie sat up, tucking her knees under her legs. She took the letter and scanned the page, her eyes trailing down as Charlie watched the information became real to someone else. She studied Katie's face as her eyes went back to the top and read it again. And again.

Finally, Katie looked up. Her eyes were wide and her chin was doing the thing it only did when she was trying very hard not to cry. Then she was off the floor and throwing her arms around Charlie's neck with enough force to push them both backward onto the bed. Charlie laughed as her head bounced on the mattress, Katie's arms tight around her.

"You're going to do it!" Katie shrieked into Charlie's shoulder. Her voice was wobbly and her arms were shaking.

"Do what?" Charlie asked with a gentle laugh.