On a deep breath, I open the door. Charlee’s Grandma looks as ragged as me on the other side reminding me about what happened, what she did.
“Rath, thank you for letting me up.”
I grip the doorframe but don’t let her in just yet. “How can I help you?”
Hands on her hips, I see the same spark in her eyes that I see in Charlee, and it gives me a margin of peace, some minute connection to Charlee.
Being the spunky eighty-year-old that she is, she pushes past me and walks into my apartment while saying, “You look like crap.”
I shut the door behind me and counter, “I could say the same about you.”
She scans the apartment and points at the couch. “Are you sleeping on the couch?”
I nod. “Yeah, doesn’t feel the same to sleep in my bed without her.”
“I knew it.” She spins and points at me. “You’re lovesick.”
“Yeah, you could say that.” I scratch the back of my neck and flop on my couch.
She takes a seat in one of the armchairs and sets her purse on the coffee table that was just crowded by coffee mugs. Some of the coffee rings are still visible.
“So, if you’re lovesick, why aren’t you going to get her?”
“You know, I really think you should start this conversation with an apology rather than a lecture. I care about you, Janice, but you lied. That shit stung.”
She carefully sets her hands on her lap. “Yes, I’m aware of the damage I’ve done. Trust me, my granddaughter won’t talk to me either.”
“Then why did you do it? Why would you fuck with people’s hearts?”
“Because.” She lifts her chin. “I know I might sound like a kooky old lady, but I’ve been around the block a few times. I know when I see a connection between two people and I also know when those two people are hurt souls. My birthday. I knew right then and there you two belonged to each other, but it was going to take some heavy finagling to make it happen. Do I regret my actions? Yes, but I don’t regret trying to get you two together, because deep down I know you two are meant for each other.”
Blowing out a frustrated breath, I say, “You told her you were sick.”
“And you’re telling me you didn’t lie to her either?”
Point made.
Defiantly, I cross my arms over my chest and say, “Mine wasn’t as bad as yours.”
“The heart can only take so much. Yours might not have seemed too bad, but in the grand scheme of things, you’re the one she’s fallen for, the one who owns her heart, and you tampered with it. But we are not in a competition to see who hurt Charlee more. I’m here because I wanted to apologize to you for any stress I might have put you though. I like you, Rath, a lot, and I truly hope you can figure this out with Charlee because you two”—she gets choked up and her hands fall to her chest—“deserve forever with each other.”
“Hell.” I stand and pull her into a hug. Her fragile body molds against mine as she cries into my chest.
“I want you two to be happy. Please tell me you won’t stop reaching out to her, you won’t quit trying to earn her love.”
I press a kiss to the top of her gray hair and squeeze her tight. My heart hurts for Janice. I know she’s devastated. She’s lost the light in her life. “I promise. I won’t ever give up.”
“Thank you.”
Chapter Thirty
CHARLEE
My phone buzzes.
Another text from Rath.
I don’t even bother looking at this one. I know what it’s going to do. It’s just going to weaken me, make me sad over everything I lost, and make me cry once again.
That’s the vicious cycle I’ve been going through all week. Get a text from him, read it, cry. Over and over and over again.
It’s gotten to the point that I’ve had a constant headache from crying, and it won’t go away. That’s why I’m lying in bed on a Saturday afternoon rather than doing anything.
When I arrived at my parents’ house, they didn’t even ask what I was doing there. Grandma had called and explained everything. They helped me carry my things to my childhood room and then let me be by myself. The next day, my mom brought me some of her famous blueberry buckle. I had a small bite but that was it. That night, my dad brought me soup. I had a few spoonfuls.
And it’s been like that all week. I haven’t really emerged from my room, only here and there. My parents have come to talk to me, play cards with me, keep me company, but they haven’t pushed me. They know the immense pain I’m going through. They know I’m hurt from my grandma’s lie, but they also know I’m devastated by Rath.
How could I not be?
I thought he loved me. I believed he did. I thought he cared for me, but he didn’t. He cared about his own agenda and used me as a tool to better the outlook of himself, something I never would have expected from him.
And the worst thing of it all is I really believed him. All the things he said to me, the way he looked me in the eyes when he was deep inside of me. It was so real.
Even now, with his texts, they feel real, like he truly needs me in his life, but how can I possibly believe him? He’s never shared anything with me, he’s never let me know the real him, the vulnerable side of him. Am I just supposed to believe everything he’s texting me now? When I’ve never heard him say anything like it before?
No. I can’t.
Sighing, I turn toward the door just as there’s a knock on it. My mom cracks the door open and asks, “Can I come in?”
I nod.
She must be frightened as she walks in, because this is the first time she’s come into the room and I’m not crying.
“Are you okay, honey?”
I shrug. “Not really, just numb, but I’m sure that’s normal.”
She rests her hand on my side. “You’re taking this harder than what Chris did.”
“Yeah, I know. Chris didn’t make me feel half the things Rath did.”
Cautious because I’m talking, my mom says, “You love him?”
And just like that, tears fill my eyes and they pour down my cheeks.
“Oh, sweetie, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to make you cry.”
I wipe them away and sit up in my bed, pressing my back to the headboard. “No, it’s okay. It was bound to happen again. I can’t seem to stop it.”
“Has he text you today?”
I nod. “Of course. He texts me every day.”
“What does it say this time?”
Forgetting my boycott on the texts, I open it up an read it out loud. “Remember the time we were Team Lemon Curdies and you kept shouting obscenities about penises to me?” I snort, and it comes out all bubbly and snotty from crying. “I wish I could replay that night all over again, but this time, not shy away from telling you how I really felt in that moment.”
I set my phone down and take a deep breath.
“Penises?” my mom questions, trying to lighten the mood.
“We were playing Pictionary. He was drawing a cannon but what he really drew was a penis that was blasting everywhere.”
“Oh dear.” My mom covers her mouth and laughs.