Charlotte's laying on the bathroom floor when she hears her phone ring. She's done throwing up, but the tile feels cool against her cheek, and she's just not ready to get up yet. She's giving herself just a little bit of time right now to wallow. Now, while she's alone, and there's nobody to see. She feels heavy — like her limbs are weighted, and like there's a big lead lump where her heart should be.
She's thinkin' about Big Daddy, about how she's heard his voice for the last time. She'd called a week and a half ago, and promised she'd come home, soon, when she could. A couple of months, maybe. She hadn't mentioned the baby. She shuts her eyes, squeezes them tight, presses a hand to her belly. He'll never know. He's about to be a granddaddy for the first time, and he'll never know. She should've gone home sooner. Should've taken time off before she started at the practice and… no. Stop this.
He's still alive, she reminds herself. Nothin' left of him to speak of, and she'll never get to talk to him again. Ever. But his heart's still beatin', there's still air bein' pushed in and out of his lungs. Focus on that, Charlotte, she tells herself. Get up off this floor.
He'd be so ashamed of her, lyin' here feelin' sorry for herself. Regrettin' her choices.
Time to get up. Time to move on.
So she rolls from her side to her back, wipes away the few tears making her cheeks itch, and then sits up. She sits, and then she stands, splashes some cool water on her face and blots it dry with the hand towel. She's done wallowing. She has a flight to book.
Her phone has long stopped ringing when she gets to the living room, so she reaches for it to check the missed calls. She figures it'll be Cooper (selfish bastard), but it's not. It's Landry. Shit. That's what she gets for lettin' herself feel all sad and stupid — missed phone calls from the little brothers who need her.
She hits the redial, and it's not more than two rings before he picks up.
"Charlie," he starts in, and she can tell already that he's pissed about somethin'. "Please tell me Judy was wrong when she said you couldn't come home for Big Daddy's funeral because you have to work."
"I didn't tell her that," Charlotte defends with a frown. "I told her I needed y'all to wait on the funeral until later in the week, because I can't make it home until Tuesday night."
"Because you have to work."
"Because I have a meeting with the hospital board on Tuesday morning and it can't be moved, yes," Charlotte explains. She can already tell this conversation is gonna give her a headache.
"And that's more important to you than your own father's funeral?"
"No, Landry, it's not more important," she sighs, waking her computer up from sleep mode, and picking up where she left off before she and Cooper went all haywire. "But there's nothin' I can do about it. I can't miss the meetin', and I can't move the meetin', and Big Daddy's not goin' anywhere, so I don't see why this is an issue."
She pulls up the Expedia website, starts putting in airport codes. LAX to MGM. Out on Tuesday afternoon, return on Thursday night. She and Judy had talked it all out, quick and efficient like the medical professionals they are. Judy had said she'd strong-arm the Kings into it if need be; clearly she'd had a hold-out.
"It's an issue because… because… because it's disrespectful, havin' him just lay there for half a week!"
He's half-drunk, she realizes. He's slurring his words just a little. She can't say she's surprised, or that she blames him. Hell, if she wasn't pregnant, she'd probably be pounding down martinis in her kitchen by now, too. Still, she's had a long day, and she's already ready to be done with this conversation.
"No, it's an issue because you're pissed and you need someone to yell at, Landry. I'm comin' home as soon as I can, but there's nothin' I can do about this. My hands are tied."
She'll have to connect in Dallas — no surprise. Same as always.
"Well, I don't appreciate you makin' funeral plans with Big Daddy's nurse instead of your own family."
Charlotte feels the snap of rage — sudden, sharp, her skin going hot. The words shoot from her mouth like bullets: "And I don't appreciate findin' out my father's all but dead from his nurse instead of my own family. You'd think maybe one of you coulda pulled it together enough to call me your own damn selves. But no. No. I get a call from Judy — not from you, not from Duke, not from Momma. Judy. He's my father, Landry, he's our father, and you couldn't even be bothered to call. So yes, I made plans with Judy. And those are the plans, Landry, that's it. I'm layin' down the law on this. I can't get there until Tuesday night, so you will hold him until then. Funeral on Thursday, and I'll fly back that night. Done. End of story."
"You're not even stayin' for two whole days?" he asks, and she hears the dull thud of a lowball glass hitting the table. "Can't even be bothered to -"
"Landry, enough!" she barks. "I run a hospital, I run a practice, I can't just take off for a week at a moment's notice. I have obligations here, and I'm sorry if that bothers you, but there's not a damned thing I can do about it! You think I wouldn't rather be home? You think I wouldn't rather take the whole week, and see you, and Momma, and Duke, and—"
"No, I don't!" he argues back, voice raised just shy of a holler. "I don't think you'd rather be here with your family than off bein' a big important doctor!"
"Well, you're wrong!" She's definitely hollering now, and much to her horror, her voice breaks on the last word. No. No, no, no. She will not cry. Not now. Not on the phone with her brother. Not ever. Not at all. She sucks in a breath, deep and cleansing, squeezes her eyes shut and makes sure her voice is even whens he repeats, "You're wrong. If I could change it, I could. If it was another week, I'd be there. But I can't, Landry. I just… I can't. So please don't make this harder, alright?"
She hears him sigh, and then hears the clink of ice in his glass before he says, "Alright, Charlie. Forget it. Funeral'll be Thursday, and we'll expect you Tuesday night." His voice has gone all defeated, and she knows then that he heard the emotion in her. Workin' her up to tears is one of the few things that can call Landry off a fight, and it looks like she's done it. She'll take it tonight, though, if it gets her out of this argument.
"Thank you," she mutters, turning her attention back to the webpage, clicking Book Now, and waiting for the payment page to load. "How's Momma, and Duke?"
"Momma's in her room, Duke's just gettin' off work. I figured I'd wait to tell him 'til he got home."
Charlotte shuts her eyes, thinks of her baby brother on his way home, unaware of the awful news waitin' on him. Her heart aches even more, then. She oughta be there. Now. "Alright. Check in on Momma now and then, make sure she's in a stupor, not a coma?"
"I will, Charlie. You need a ride from the airport on Tuesday?" he asks, and she marvels, not for the first time, at their ability to slide from a fight straight into conversation. Then again, they've had decades of practice.
"Don't worry about it," Charlotte says. "I'll take care of that; you just take care of Duke and Momma until I get there."
"Don't I always?"
Before she can answer, she hears a voice call out in the background — Duke's voice. He's home.
"You should go," she tells Landry. "I'll send you my flight info, so you'll know when to expect me."
"Alright. See you soon."
"Yep."
"Hey, Charlie—" he starts, going silent until she gives him a Hmm? "I, uh — Well, I love ya. That's all."
Well, shit. Tears spring to her eyes immediately, and she keeps her voice quiet in an attempt to hide them when she tells him, "I love ya, too. But if you tell anyone I said so, I'll call you a liar," she teases, earning herself a chuckle from her brother.
"I wouldn't dare. I've gotta go."
"Yeah. I'll be home soon."
"Yep." She hears Duke's voice coming closer in the background, but can't make out what he's saying. "See you then."
And then the line goes silent, and Charlotte just sits there, staring at the words on her computer screen for a minute. Name. Address. Card number. They could be in Greek for as much as she's comprehending them right now.
And then she takes a deep breath, clears her mind, and enters her credit card number from memory.
This is gonna be a long, long weekend.
