Disclaimer: see chapter 1
Thanks to everyone following this story, especially to max2013 for your enjoyable comments!
Chapter 9: A Different Form of Fighting
Charlie's hands were still on the steering-wheel, his fingers trembling. His palms were a little sweaty, and with the dampness in the atmosphere, he was feeling a little clammy. His nervousness was slightly calmed down by the soothing sound of the raindrops falling on his windshield, but on the other hand, they hardly gave him an impetus to leave his car and go ring the bell. Now that the hour to become a man of action had come, he was feeling more uneasy than he had anticipated. Then again, it made sense. Amita and Don were the two most important people in his life. The idea of losing either of them was unimaginably cruel, and Charlie wouldn't know what to do in such a case. So what if tonight, he would come to find that not only one, but both of them had decided they no longer needed him in their lives, if he would lose both of them in one night?
Over the course of the day, he hadn't been able to ban that thought from his mind, and since he still hadn't felt ready to confront them, he'd spent the time by finding ways to deal with that worst case scenario, where his girlfriend and his brother had decided they were quite happy together, happier than with him. However, none of the ways he'd thought of to solve this possible predicament seemed very appealing to him, so he still had no idea how to deal with this situation.
He sighed. It was time, it wouldn't get better by sitting in his car and wondering how this would end, what he needed was a final answer.
He got out of his car and ran towards the front door of Don's apartment building, pulling his jacket over his head to get some protection from the pouring rain. For a moment, he hesitated, but then took out his key to let himself in. He could still ring at the door to Don's apartment, for to tell the truth, he wasn't particularly eager to discuss this matter from out here. True, his concept of a Saturday night wasn't overly spectacular, but standing in the pouring rain and yelling into his brother's intercom nonetheless wasn't part of that.
As he was taking the stairs to Don's apartment, he pondered once again whether he'd made the right choice. Once he'd made up his mind to do something about this, he'd deliberated over whether to try his luck first with Amita or with Don. In the end, he'd chosen Don, and even though it sounded rather archaic, he had found that there was some truth in those words: blood was thicker than water. If things didn't work out the way he would like them to, chances were that he and Amita would part ways. They would stop talking to each other, they would avoid seeing each other, and eventually, that would probably make it possible to deal with the pain, so that eventually, he'd be able to leave for fresh woods, to find someone else to find happiness with, and Amita would become a former girlfriend of his, a part of his life that belonged to the past, and only to the past.
With Don, things were different, for he couldn't just break up with his brother. Even if Don and Amita decided to pursue a relationship, Don was still Charlie's family, they couldn't just scratch each other out of their lives. Even during the years while they had been more distant, there had still been a connection between them, and they'd never lost sight of each other completely. The simple fact of being related, of sharing the same genes and having grown up together, of being part of the same family, made it that much harder to make a clean cut and part ways – and at the same time that much more probable that whatever happened, their relationship could still be saved. So, figuring that whatever happened and whatever he was about to find out, there was a chance that he wouldn't ruin his relationship with his brother for good, this was where Charlie had gone first.
He knocked on the door and waited with hardly bearable tension until Don opened. Once he did, his big brother was staring at him wide-eyed, the surprise clearly showing on his face, but in the dim light of the hallway, Charlie couldn't see anything past that, he couldn't tell whether Don was happy to see him or aghast.
"Charlie!" Don now found a way to give voice to his surprise, but Charlie hardly heard him anymore. His eyes were mesmerized by a point behind Don, by the wardrobe and the sand-colored trenchcoat hanging there, still dark from being wet. It was a female trenchcoat, one that Charlie was very familiar with, and even if he hadn't known to whom it belonged, he would have been sure when his eyes took in the scarf, the one he'd given her on their first anniversary.
He bit his lip and nodded as though he needed to confirm to himself what he was seeing, while at the same time trying to keep the hurt and disappointment down for just another moment, just another moment so that he wouldn't lose his pride for good. "Thanks for clearing that up," he said to his brother before he turned around on his heels and left, taking the stairs with such rapid movements that he even tripped on the wet floor and was only just able to hold onto the handrail to prevent himself from tumbling down.
"Wait!" Don called after him. "Charlie!"
Charlie had no intention of waiting though and instead kept going, flight after flight, until he was standing outside in the rain again. For a moment, he just stood there, still unable to fully comprehend what had just happened, and what repercussions that would have on his life. He was breathing heavily, trying to find orientation, both in his life and in the here and now. He looked up the road, then down again, but just couldn't remember where he had parked his car. He couldn't see it from here, and he just didn't know which way to turn to, he didn't know which way to go –
"Charlie, wait!"
He turned around. Don was standing in the door, just socks on his feet, without any shoes.
"Come back in, please."
Charlie looked back at him, and maybe it was the rain and the darkness that were playing tricks on his mind, but all he could see was Amita, standing there next to Don and snuggling up against his chest.
He shook his head, and the image became more blurry, but didn't leave completely. "I need to go."
"Where?"
Charlie was silent for a moment, hesitating. He knew Don wanted to know where he was going now, but since he didn't know that, he gave him the answer that he had already figured out, this afternoon. "I have a standing offer to teach at MIT for a semester. I think I'm gonna take them up on that."
Don was staring at him. "Are you serious?" The question seemed rhetorical, so Charlie didn't waste any energy on trying to find an answer. "Charlie, come on… I understand you're upset, but please be rational about this. I know we hurt you, but in the end, it was just kissing. Aren't you overreacting a little?"
Charlie was shaking his head, though not directly as an answer to Don's question. Yes, there was a good chance he was overreacting, but so what? What alternative was there? "What do you expect me to do, keep working along with the two of you?" He shook his head again, more resolute this time. "I just need to put some distance between me and you, only for a while. I just… I can't stand seeing the two of you together."
"But there's nothing going on between us!"
Charlie huffed while the leaden feeling of betrayal was becoming heavier. Don was doing it again, he was lying to him, he was mocking him. "So I assume I just imagined her coat hanging at your wardrobe."
"She's here, yes," Don admitted, "but not because she wants something from me –"
"Then why?"
"Because she's heartbroken over you, you idiot!"
While Charlie was still staring back at him, trying to make sense of his brother's words, a figure was slowly stepping up behind Don, her dark hair encircling her beautiful face that tonight, however, was puffy from crying.
"Charlie," was all that she whispered, but it was enough to render him completely submissive.
"Come on, let's go inside and get you dry, and then we'll talk," Don said, stepping aside a little to make room for him to enter.
Charlie's eyes went from Amita to him and back, across the chasm between them that was wide enough for him to pass through, and without the conscious volition to do so, he stepped inside, taking once again the steps upstairs.
The way back to Don's apartment was made in perfect silence, as though all three of them had come to an agreement that they didn't want to act out a scene for Don's neighbors. It was only when they were inside, standing in the hallway with equal distance between them, and only after Don had closed the door to the stairwell, that they dared to talk again, or at least Don did.
"I'm gonna get you some dry clothes," he murmured and disappeared, leaving Charlie and Amita alone in the hallway.
"Charlie, I – " she started, but he interrupted her.
"We'll talk in a minute," he said, feeling the panic rise inside him. He wasn't ready for this. He'd come here prepared for a heart-to-heart talk with Don, not to fight his final battle over not losing Amita. He needed more time, and more clarity.
"I'll go and… make us some coffee then," she said, speaking the last words away from him while she was already hurrying into the kitchen.
"You should take a hot shower before changing into these," Don said in a low voice as he came up behind him, almost as imperceptible as a ghost. "Otherwise you'll surely get a cold."
Charlie just nodded, holding back the question of since when Don cared about his well-being, sensing that it wouldn't be fair to him.
"Charlie," Don then held him back when he was about to make his way to the bathroom and finally stop dripping on Don's floor. His tone was so strange that it made Charlie look up at him, right into his eyes, and the emotion he saw there almost took his breath away.
"I'm so sorry," Don whispered, the anguish in his eyes becoming deeper still. "I don't know what came over me. All I know is that I never meant to hurt you. I would never want you to be hurting, and if there was anything I could do to take it back, I wouldn't hesitate an instant. You need to believe me that."
Charlie cast down his eyes. He did believe him that, he knew that. And it was true, it didn't change the fact that he had been hurt, but it was exactly what their father had told him this morning. There was nothing that Don could do other than to ask for his forgiveness, and there was nothing Charlie could do than to give him that, at least it was the only way if he wanted to save his relationship with his brother. And he did want that, he wanted him in his life. Somehow, however, he couldn't bring himself to do it. He knew his father had been right, he knew that mistakes happened, and he knew he wasn't completely innocent in this himself, but that wasn't the point.
What if Don had won?
True, he claimed they'd just been kissing and he'd made it seem as though there hadn't been any feelings involved, but what if they were? What if Don had managed to steal Amita away from him? Could he forgive him that?
He swallowed. He just didn't know, he just couldn't tell whether he'd be able to forgive and forget, and if he wasn't sure, how could he tell Don that everything was forgiven? No, couldn't do it, not here, not now, not when he was still so confused and couldn't tell for sure what was going on between his brother and his girlfriend.
"I think I'll need some time," Charlie replied carefully, and Don nodded, showing an amount of understanding and obligingness that Charlie wasn't quite ready for.
"Of course. Whatever you need."
Then, just as Charlie was about to turn around to finally have that shower, Don surprised him once again by pulling him into a hug, regardless of his wet clothes. "I love you, buddy," he whispered. "You know that, right?"
Charlie was still, like a pillar of salt, and Don let go of him again, looking at him with a kind of fear Charlie didn't know from him. For a moment, he pondered asking his brother whether he'd said those words to Amita as well, but finally decided that, too, wouldn't have been fair. Instead, he found that despite everything, despite all the confusion on his mind, there was one thing, well, two things, that he knew.
"I love you, too."
There was the ghost of a smile flashing across Don's face, but in his eyes, there was still sorrow, a sorrow so deep that Charlie couldn't stand it any longer, so he turned around and finally disappeared into the bathroom.
He took a long time with the shower, almost fifteen minutes, and he took some further minutes to meticulously towel his hair and the rest of his body. After the hot shower, Don's clothes, while a little too big for him, felt pleasantly cozy, and once he was fully clothed, he'd come to a decision how to deal with this.
Amita and Don were sitting in the living-room at a distance that was putting Charlie's mind at ease and staring wordlessly into their coffee cups. They looked up at him at his entrance, and Charlie took a deep breath before he asked his brother, "Could you leave us alone, please?"
Don was looking a little startled, but then readily retreated to his bedroom. Charlie sat down, taking Don's place and the third steaming cup that Amita had prepared.
"How are things between the two of you?" she asked when they heard the door to Don's bedroom fall shut. She sounded nervous, even frightened, and there was something raw about her voice, probably from the crying.
He nodded slowly, never taking his eyes off his coffee and still wondering how he should approach the subject. Even though he knew what he wanted to ask her, he hadn't figured out how to get there, not if this shouldn't end in a catastrophe.
"Okay," he instead answered her question. "Getting there."
She nodded. "Good. I'm glad." She hesitated, but then went on, her voice still husky and choked. "I'm so sorry for what I did, you have to believe me. I can't even explain why I did it –"
"Do you want to end things between us?"
He didn't know what had made him say those words, now, he only knew that he hadn't been able to hold them back any longer.
She was staring at him, her wide eyes displaying shock. "No," she replied in a faint voice. "I don't want that, I've never wanted that. All I've ever..." She broke off, then started anew, "All I've ever wanted is to be with you."
Charlie bit his lip and averted his eyes, unable to stand the look in hers any longer. They seemed so genuine, so distraught, and yet he was unable to say whether there was still love to be found in those eyes. He just couldn't be sure, because when he regarded her actions...
"Why did you tell me about your betrayal?"
Charlie noticed that while he could feel his heart beating so wildly that it was making him sick, his own voice sounded almost eerily calm, whereas Amita seemed to be getting more and more upset. "I just couldn't stand the thought of lying to you!"
Charlie was looking at her, forcing himself to scrutinize her and trying to figure out whether she was telling the truth. It seemed so, but Charlie still had to make sure, for one thing was certain: he couldn't stand the idea of making up with Amita only to go through all this pain again next week. "Are you positive that's the real reason? Maybe you were just saying that so I would break up with you, it might even have been on a subconscious level."
Amita was staring at him, looking as though the tears were about to break free once again. "Why are you saying such things?"
"Because," Charlie started and, for the first time, needed to clear his throat, "because it was the second time within twenty-four hours that you brought the matter up, that you suggested we should end things between us." He had to increase his blinking rhythm in order to keep all the moisture where it belonged, for he was scared. He was so scared of Amita's reaction that he half hoped she wouldn't answer, but at the same time he knew he would bleed out internally from the tension of having to bear this insecurity any longer.
She was shaking her head, but a frown had appeared on her forehead. She was clearly thinking about Charlie's words, and with held breath, he watched her come to the conclusion of whether his thesis had been right or wrong.
"I didn't plan on telling you. Don and I, we agreed that it would only upset you unnecessarily, since there was nothing going on between us. But when you came to my apartment, when you said you were sorry..." Her eyes welled up with tears again, and she had to wipe them away before she was able to go on. "I just couldn't keep this from you any longer. It felt like I was lying to you, as though you had been the one, the only one, who'd made a mistake in this relationship, and after what I had done, I just couldn't stand the idea of you pushing me on this moral high-ground."
Charlie swallowed thickly and tried to stay level-headed, tried to see this through even though the hammering of his heart was starting to make him sick. "What about the day before that? You said we should both do some thinking about us as a couple, and then the first thing you do is start an affair with my brother."
Once the words were out, he felt a pang of a guilty conscience, for as true as they were, they also seemed unnecessarily cruel, and he felt his heart bleed when they brought the tears back to her eyes. "I didn't… I don't know… We didn't have an affair," she finally managed to utter. "We just kissed, and I don't even understand it myself how it could have come this far. I don't love him, and he doesn't love me either, it was just… we were both so lonely that night. I know that it's not an excuse, but I just..." She shook her head again, then waited until her breathing had quieted down. A little calmer, she continued, "And about that fight… I didn't want to break up with you. I wanted our problems to go away. But I never wanted to lose you. I never wanted that." Her voice became choked when she ended, "I've never wanted anything or anybody more than you, Charlie. And I hate myself for having hurt you in this way, and I know I don't deserve you, but I.. I just can't help but hope that maybe, everything's not over between us."
Charlie was looking back into her face, and felt his throat close up. He had his answer now, he had all the answers in the world, for all he could really feel in this moment was love. Yes, the hurt and disappointment were still there somewhere, but they weren't what mattered, and neither was the pain that Amita had caused by her words, claiming she didn't deserve him. It had been pretty much the same words he'd used towards her only two days ago, and he felt that he and Amita were both right and both wrong about them. So maybe they didn't deserve each other because they had both made mistakes, but at the same time, one might argue that they did deserve each other, for they loved each other, with all their shortcomings, and with all their faults. All they needed was to forgive each other and, eventually, to forgive themselves.
"Things aren't over," he told her. His voice was gone, but that didn't matter. He didn't need his voice to show Amita how much he loved her, nor the other way round, all they needed was the language of love that, in this case, was sealed by a long and tender kiss.
- finis -