(It Was Almost) The First Time in Forever
Chapter 2
I wake again and it's daylight. I can hear the rain falling but it's nothing like the storm I woke to hours earlier. The recliner is empty. I hear the sounds of Charlie puttering around in the kitchen. The smells of coffee and bacon are in the air as I rub my eyes and push myself to my feet.
The scene in the kitchen is what I live for, my husband of nearly 50 years, completely relaxed. He's standing at the counter, reading glasses perched on his nose as he reads the directions on the box of pancake mix. On the counter next to the stove is his coffee in a News Night with Will McAvoy mug and a half eaten banana. There's music playing softly, I recognize it as a CD Beau and his band made last winter. A few minutes pass by before he realizes he's being watched.
"Morning sweetheart," he calls over his shoulder as he reaches in the cabinet for the measuring cup. "Can you flip those," he asks as he motions towards the bacon with his elbow.
"Certainly," I reply as I cross the room. I give him a quick kiss as I reach around him to grab the tongs.
Fifteen minutes later we're sitting at the kitchen table with enough food for at least four people. But I'm not complaining, I'm just happy to see Charlie eat something. We talk about fairly benign subjects, the previous night's storm, the grandchildren, the renovations we want to do to our back deck. The most serious subject we talk about is the big party we're going to throw when Will comes home.
I send him out of the kitchen when we're done eating. He cooked, it's only fair that I clean up. He doesn't get very far, he ends up at the island with the newspaper and a third cup of coffee.
"Did you sleep?" I ask as I turn the water on to wash the griddle.
"Some, woke up before the storm."
"Well, you have plenty of time to nap this afternoon," I state simply, waiting for a protest. When one doesn't come I turn around. Reading glasses perched on his nose, chin resting on one hand my husband looks adorable. I just laugh a little to myself and turn back to my cleaning.
When the kitchen is clean I go up to get dressed to head out to the garden. The rain has stopped and I figure I'll head out there while I can. Charlie declines my offer to let him help me, deciding instead to take a quick shower.
"Sure you don't want to help?" I ask as I point to the flat of plants which need to be planted in the large terra cotta pots on the deck.
"Nope, I'm good," is the reply I get as Charlie stretches out on the lounge chair with his iPad and a glass of iced tea.
I work while he pretends he's reading. I know he's really playing games, the muttering of the four letter words give it away.
His cell phone rings and I can tell by the tone of his voice and his posture who is on the other end. I sigh and mutter a few choice words of my own. While he paces around the deck and talks to Pruitt I finish up the final pot and clean up my mess. With one eye on the plants I'm watering and one eye on Charlie I try to figure out how to bring up the retirement conversation yet again. It's way too clear by his body language that Charlie is getting more pissed off by the moment. He kicking at the furniture and running his free hand through his hair as he talks.
"Hang up," I mutter as I brush my hair out of my eyes, trying not to get dirt in my hair.
"We will talk about it on Monday," Charlie yells as he ends the call. He tosses the phone on the table and lets out a frustrated breath. I peel off my gardening gloves so I don't get him dirty as I wrap him into a big hug.
"Princeton story?" I guess as that's been the fight of the week with Pruitt.
"Yep," Charlie mutters. "The whole thing is just crap. We shouldn't be doing it. I know that in my heart, everyone knows it, except for that little asshole," he mutters. "I have to convince Don to do it. All while trying not to throw up," he snorts.
"You'll think of a way to do it," I said, my words sounding utterly ridiculous to both of us.
"Yeah, I will and it just may kill me to do so," he replies.
"Charles Edward Skinner, do not even joke like that," I say in a tone which is harsher than I had intended. He pulls out of my embrace and I'm immediately sorry.
"I'm sorry," he mutters as he runs a hand wearily over his eyes. "I'm going to walk up to the mailbox," he says as he puts his phone back in the pocket of his shorts. I let him go, figuring the walk up the long driveway will do him some good.
I put the gardening supplies back in the shed and admire the newly planted flowers. I can see Charlie at the end of the driveway. He's talking to our next door neighbor and petting their black lab. I wave to him and head in to take a shower. It's almost noon and Katie and Ned are coming over for lunch in less than an hour.
True to my plan, we spend a relaxing afternoon with our family. Katie and Ned arrived a little before one and Beau even made a brief appearance before disappearing with his friends.
After eating, Charlie and Ned tossed a football in the backyard for a while and Ned wore Katie down in his request to jump in the pool. The pool is heated but water's still too cold for anyone over the age of 7 but he has a great time. Charlie sat at the end of the pool with his feet in the water, throwing a plastic fish in the water for Ned to dive down and retrieve.
Ktien and I sat on the deck with iced tea and a few decorating magazines, trying to decide what exactly we should do with our deck. Thankfully Charlie's phone only rings a few times and none of those calls were from Pruitt. Makenzie called with some lame excuse, when in truth she was just checking up on Charlie. I'm sure she's just as worried about my husband as I am. Don does that same although his excuse for calling was probably a little more believable than Mac's.
Katie doesn't have any words of wisdom when I ask for some advice on how to get her father to reconsider his view on retirement. I decide to give it one more try later tonight. Maybe I'll soften him up with pizza and beer.
Katie and I clean up from the hamburger lunch Charlie grilled for us. She gives Ned a 10 minute warning to get himself out of the pool. He's spending the night with his Dad and he needs to get home and get ready. I'm grateful for the fact that Katie and the boys live less than two miles away. Ned can't wait until he's old enough to ride his bike over by himself.
I watch from the porch when Charlie carries Ned out to the car as our little guy is not wearing shoes and we have a gravel driveway. He kisses his grandson and daughter with a promise to get together next weekend.
Charlie waves once more and heads towards me. "That little man is exhausting," he chuckles as he drops onto the porch swing. His silver hair flops over his forehead, giving him that adorable look I fell in love with half a century ago.
"He most certainly is. Why don't you rest for a little while? You want some iced tea?" I ask as he starts the swing with his foot.
"Sounds good," he replies as he closes his eyes.
Ten minutes later, after a glass of iced tea and a few cookies he pushes himself off the swing and settles down on the lounge chair. Approximately five minutes after that, he's sound asleep.
While he naps I start a load of laundry and empty the dishwasher. I look at the calendar to see what the week ahead holds for us. I have an appointment to get my haircut and Charlie has an appointment with his doctor.
The appointment was my idea, not his. It's been well over a year since he's had a physical and let's face it, he's in his early 70's, he's under too much stress, he drinks too much, sleeps too little and eats like he's in college. In my non-medical professional opinion, he's on the fast track to a bad outcome.
As I start to fold the laundry I hear his phone ringing. From the sound of it, he left it in the kitchen. I glance at the readout, it's Pruitt. I press decline and turn off the ringer. Whatever he wants, it can wait. I glance at the phone a minute later, happy that he didn't bother to leave a message.
Two hours pass by and Charlie's still sound asleep. I've checked on him a few times and he's actually sleeping peacefully for a change.
It's a little before 6 and I've decided I'm getting hungry so I head back out to the porch to see about waking my husband. He's stirring a little as I perch on the edge of the lounge chair. He's turned on his side facing me so I rub his back a little. "You okay?" I ask, he looks much more tired than he should, considering he just took a two and a half hour nap.
"Don't feel so great," he mutters. I frown as I press my hand to his forehead, he feels warm. I remember that Ned had a little virus earlier in the week, maybe he decided to share his germs with grandfather.
"You're warm. I think your favorite little man shared his germs. Come inside." I pull him to his feet and he shuffles into the kitchen and sits at the island. I don't bother with the thermometer, I just hand him two Advil and a bottle of water.
"What's going on?" I ask as I rub his back a little.
"Headache, everything just hurts, I guess," he sighs as he puts his head down on his folded arms.
"Guess I'll take a rain check on the pizza."
"What pizza?" he mumbles without lifting his head.
"The pizza we were going to get for dinner."
"Ah, sorry about that," he mutters.
"Nothing to be sorry about. Spending the night here alone with you isn't exactly my idea of a horrible evening," I tease. "Do you mind if I eat something?"
"Of course not, I'm going to go read or something," he says as he motions in the general direction of the den.
"No Bourbon," I call. He turns around, comes back in the kitchen and grabs the bottle of water from the island. I hear him grumbling a little as he heads down the hall. I just laugh.
He probably won't be reading, seeing as his reading glasses are sitting by the newspaper on the island.
A quick search of the refrigerator yields nothing that catches my eye. So I settle for the old standby, peanut butter and jelly. I talk to Mackenzie while I eat. She's hanging in there, I don't know how, but she is. We make plans to have lunch next week.
I wander into the den to find Charlie watching a baseball game. He's stretched out on the couch in the fading daylight.
"Good game?" I ask, not that I really care all that much. The only ball games I really pay attention to are Ned's.
"Not really," he answers as he starts to sit up to give me room to sit on the couch. I curl up in the corner and motion to him to settle back down with his head in my lap.
"Was that my phone I heard a while ago?" he asks. I just nod. "The Devil?" he asks with a smirk.
"Yep. I turned the ringer off. Anyone we really want to talk to will call my phone or the house."
"That's my girl," Charlie says with a wink. He turns his attention back to the television but I can tell he wants to say something. What, I have no idea. I don't push him. If there's one thing I've learned about him over the years it's that if he's not ready to talk, he won't. And he certainly won't respond well if I press him to share what he's thinking. Eventually he mutes the game and rolls over a little to really look at me.
"What the fuck am I doing?" he asks as he sighs.
I don't respond verbally, I just raise my eyebrows and he gets the hint. The environment he works in has made colorful language perfectly acceptable. However, that acceptability does not extend to our home.
"What am I doing?" he tries again, leaving out his favorite word.
"Charlie, honey, you need to be a bit more specific," I point out because I'm not exactly sure where he's going with this conversation.
"I'm too old to have made this deal with the Devil," he mutters.
"You did what you had to do at the time. You didn't exactly have a choice. You tried to find another buyer and you got screwed over," I point out, using my version of colorful language.
"Yeah."
"But you don't have to continue the deal," I say plainly, just letting my words hang in the air.
"I know. I thought I could do it. But it's been 6 weeks and I feel like it's killing me. My staff looks at me as if I've grown a second head. And believe me, I can't believe some of the shit that comes out of my mouth on a daily basis," he spits out. I let the language pass by as I'm just happy he's starting to talk.
"Honey, you are in a horrible position. And let's be honest, I don't see it getting better any time soon. I know you haven't wanted to consider it before but maybe it's time to really think about retiring."
I just sit back and wait for the vigorous protests which I've come to expect whenever I even bring up the subject.
Thirty seconds later and I'm still waiting for a reaction of any kind.
"Charles?" I whisper. The use of his full name brings him back from wherever he went.
"Maybe it is," he whispers back.
For years I've been waiting for him to agree to even consider retirement. And now that he has, I'm scared to death. It's almost like he's giving up before my eyes. In the last bit of fading daylight he suddenly seems older to me, more worn out and just plain sad. I lean over and wrap my arm across his chest and kiss him softly.
"Now what?" he asks as he rubs at his eyes.
"We talk to some people. Katie, Will and Mac, Leona. We pray, we take some time to think about it."
He just nods as he swings his legs over the side of the couch and sits up. Elbows on his knees and head in his hands, he breaks my heart. I just scoot over a little and rub his back. Comforting words don't flow easily so we sit in silence.
That silence is broken a minute later when I hear a choking sob coming from my husband.
"Oh sweetie, come here," I whisper as I move back to the corner of the couch and pull him towards me. He curls up against me, head tucked under my chin. He cries like he hasn't cried since his mother died 20 years ago. I try to console him the best I can but of course his tears have caused mine to start too and soon we are just a soggy mess. I manage to pull myself together quicker than he does and I reach for the box of tissues on the end table. I shove a handful towards him and he takes them with a weak, watery smile. He untangles himself from my embrace and attempts to wipe his face a little. Tissues aren't exactly working all that well so I leave him on the couch and grab a washcloth from the laundry basket on the steps.
"Do you need more water?" I yell as I walk into the kitchen to wet the cloth.
"Yeah," he yells back.
He's still on the couch when I get back, head tipped back he's staring at the ceiling. The glow from the light in the hallway is enough for me to see what I'm going. I'm sure he wouldn't appreciate the harsh overhead light being turned on. I gently wipe his face and put the cool, damp cloth on his forehead. He drinks a little water and his breathing slowly returns to normal.
"Sorry," he apologizes unnecessarily.
"For what, Charlie? Being human?" I tease as I tip his chin to get him to look at me. He smiles a little and kisses my cheek.
"God, I feel like crap," he admits with a sigh.
"Why don't you go up and soak in the tub for a while. I'll bring up some tea," I offer as I pull him to his feet. I pull the cloth off his forehead and kiss his cheek, realizing I should probably find the thermometer.
He plods up the stairs looking every bit his age. "Grab my glasses," he yells over his shoulder.
"Okay."
I listen for the sound of the water running in the tub because at this point I wouldn't be surprised if he just face planted on the bed instead of relaxing in the tub. I hear the groaning of the old pipes as I turn on the burner under the tea kettle.
I prop his reading glasses on my own head so I can carry both mugs up the stairs. As I head towards our bathroom I can hear him singing in his endearing, slightly off key voice.
"Careful, it's hot," I warn as I hand him the mug of Sleepytime tea. He takes it with a grateful smile. I set my own tea on the counter and hunt through the medicine cabinet for the ear thermometer. I find it behind the sleeping pills he hates to take and the bottle of antacid tablets which he reaches for way too often. "Turn your head," I tell him as I sit on the edge of the tub. "100.8," I announce after the thermometer beeps.
"That would explain the whole feeling like crap thing," he mutters under his breath. I hand him his glasses and book with a kiss to the top of his head.
"I'll be right back up," I tell him as I head back downstairs to bring up the laundry basket.
As I put away the laundry we chat bit about nothing in particular, certainly not any life changing decisions. When I realize I haven't heard much from Charlie in the last few minutes, I wander back into the bathroom to find him half asleep, glasses slipping down on the end of his nose, his book about an inch away from falling into the water. I pull the book from his grasp and he startles awake.
"Let's get you out before you drown," I tease as I take off his glasses.
"What time is it?" he mutters as he takes the hand I offer him.
"Almost 9. Here," I say as I hand him a towel. When I'm sure he's steady on his feet I go to grab him something to sleep in. He wanders into the bedroom with the towel wrapped around his waist. His hair is sticking out in all directions and he looks adorable. I hand him a pair of plaid boxers and an ancient ACN t-shirt. As he slips them on I take the pile of clean towels to the bathroom to put them away.
Charlie pads back in the bathroom to hang up his towel. He stops to look in the mirror as he rakes his hand through his hair in an effort to tame it a little. It doesn't really work. He slides to sit on the counter, swinging his bare feet in front of him. I reach behind him to get some more Advil. I hand him two with the rest of his now cold tea. As I put the Advil back the bottle of Ambien catches my eye and I grab it. I shake it a little to get his attention.
"Fine," he sighs, the resignation coming through in his voice. He takes the pill without any further comment.
I stand in front on him, putting my hands on his knees so he stops kicking his feet. "What do you want to do?" I ask. He raises his eyebrows and smirks. I just shake my head.
He reaches to pull me close, resting his chin on my shoulder. "I love you," he whispers.
"Love you too," I whisper back.
A few minutes pass by before Charlie relaxes his grip on me and sits back up. Motioning for me to step back, he slides off the counter to brush his teeth.
"Take the rest of your pills," I remind him as I close the door behind me. I hear him mutter a few choice words as he opens the medicine cabinet to grab his blood pressure and cholesterol meds. I think to myself how unhappy he's going to be when I suggest he talk to his doctor about taking something for the anxiety. He's had trouble with it over the years but up until 6 weeks ago, things had been pretty good for a long time. And now things are far from fine and I want to get a head start on things, so to speak. He'll fight me about it, he has another idea of what to take for anxiety.
That idea would be a good bottle of Bourbon, the elephant in the room of our fairytale marriage.
But at 9 o'clock at night and with Charlie running a fever of almost 101, I'm going to keep my thoughts to myself.
"Nancy…Nancy," I turn to find Charlie leaning in the doorway to the bathroom, apparently trying to get my attention. "You okay, seemed to space out a little," he smirks. That's usually something I say to him.
"I'm fine," I assure him with a smile.
He crossed the room and curls up in the overstuffed chair in the corner. I turn off the overhead light and he reaches to turn on the floor lamp over his left shoulder. He puts on his reading glasses and opens up his book. I toss the grey throw from the end of our bed over his legs and kiss the top of his head. "Yell, if you need anything. I'm going to work downstairs for a little while."
"Okay," he mutters a little, his attention already turned towards his book.
I head back down the stairs and turn the water back on under the tea kettle to make myself another cup. As the water boils I head into my "woman cave" the large laundry/sewing room off the kitchen. I turn on the overhead light and light the vanilla mint candle on the shelf. My latest project is a quilt for Ned. I took him to the fabric store a few weeks ago and let him pick out what he wanted. As a result I have a pile of bright colored fabrics with various super heroes printed on them. I iron the pieces and spend the next hour or so starting to cut the fabric. I don't see or hear a thing from Charlie and I imagine he is sound asleep, probably still curled up in the chair.
A little before 11 and I've cut out about half the fabric, that's enough for tonight. I stick my mug in the dishwasher and pull a couple of steaks out of the freezer for dinner tomorrow night. I'm surprisingly still awake so I check my email and do a little mindless web surfing until almost midnight.
True to my prediction, Charlie is sound asleep in the chair. His book is on the floor and his glasses are in his lap. I set the book and glasses on the side table before perching on the arm of the chair to gently wake him up and get him to bed. I run my fingers through his thick hair and press a kiss to his forehead.
"Come to bed, sweetie," I whisper as he starts to stir. I pull the throw off his lap so he doesn't end up tangled up and quite possibly on the floor. He's back to sleep within a minute and a half. By the time I've brushed my own teeth and taken my own pills, it is a few minutes after midnight.
I sit on the edge of the bed for a minute and say a quick prayer before crawling under the covers. In his sleep Charlie reaches out and pulls me close and for a minute everything feels right.
TBC