Italics indicate character thought.
He pounded his fist hard on the door and waited, tapping his foot, for it to open. When it did he found his mother facing him, her eyes shadowed and her brow creased.
"Charlie." Her voice was cold, his name more an accusation than an affection. She didn't open the door far enough for him to see inside.
He shot her a wry smile and mirrored her disinterested tone and stance. "Mother."
She looked away and he couldn't tell if she was uncomfortable or just pissed. He figured the latter was much more likely. When the hell did this happen? How did my mother turn into this? She finally rolled her ice blue eyes up to meet his and sighed as she began to swing the door closed. "My lawyer says I'm not supposed to talk to you, so…"
Charlie grabbed the edge of the door, his voice hard. "Yeah, well mine says the same thing, but there's something we need to discuss. I'm coming in." He pushed the door towards her and muscled his way into the living room. He looked around as she huffed at him and was sad to see that she had let things go even more than the last time he had been around. There was a thick layer of dust coating everything and the furniture had certainly seen better days. He couldn't help but think he could make this better. Make her better.
Big dreams, Conway. Carol Brady she's never going to be, so quit thinking you can fix her. He crossed his arms as she stood across from him, fidgeting with her hair and then twisting her fingers in agitation.
"I know about the letters, Mom." His voice was calm, only a small hint of his anger peeking through.
He watched her consider, and then saw the light of recognition in her eyes. She shook her head, feigning confusion. "What letters?"
Charlie dropped his voice a level, hoping she would understand how serious he was. "The letters that Beau has been sending me for the past year. I know you have them. Where are they?"
Casey had planned to say she had never seen them, but just hearing that girl's name – Beau – it made her want to crawl out of her skin. "What do you care about some letters from that gold digging little whore?"
It would have been nice to say that he couldn't believe what he had heard out of Casey's mouth, but the truth was that he wasn't the little bit surprised. It had been a year since he had seen or talked to Beau and still just the mention of something negative in association with her had him seeing red. Charlie clenched and unclenched his fists, feeling absolutely no affection for the woman standing across from him. "Did you just say that Beau was the one who was a gold digger?" The sarcasm in his voice was evident. "You are suing your own son."
She stuck out a hip, her hand restring there. "I'm only asking for what I deserve for bringing you into this world and making sure you learned how to play that hockey that is making you all that money now that you're a big shot." She believed it. Every word.
Charlie felt miserable looking at her standing there. "You brought me into this world. That's fair." She grinned in satisfaction. "But you had nothing to do with me playing hockey. Yeah, you put me on the first team, and made sure I had some newspapers to tie around my shins. But my father…he was the one who taught me how to play. To love the game. And Coach Bombay did the rest. You did nothing but make sure I felt like crap about myself every single day of my life." He tasted disgust in his mouth and wanted out of there. He needed air. When he looked back up at her she seemed shocked by his words. Her mouth hung open and she was, for once, speechless. Charlie let his voice stay emotionless. "Now get me the God-damned letters."
"Are you okay, sir?" The twenty-something flight attendant had found it hard throughout the long trip from Minneapolis to Los Angeles to keep her eyes off of the guy in 3A. He had a pile of envelopes on his lap and he opened one at a time, reading and rereading each one. His eyes were intense and he had dropped his head into his hands time after time. He was breaking her heart and she didn't even know him.
He looked up, seemingly surprised to see her standing by his side. He swallowed audibly, folding a letting under his palms, and blinked back what she would tell her friends was a single tear. She didn't know if it had been, but what a story, right? "What was that? I'm sorry."
She crouched down in the isle, her fingers wrapped around the arm of his seat. "I couldn't help but notice how unhappy you look, sir, and I just wanted to see if you were okay. If there was anything that I could do for you."
He frowned, embarrassed, and she immediately felt bad for asking. Poor 3A. "No. Thank you though. I'm fine."
She stood up, nodding, and started to walk away. Thinking twice she turned her head and looked at him, indicating the stack of letters. "For what it's worth, sir, she doesn't know what she's missing."
Charlie looked up at her, a small smile playing on his lips for the first time that day. "Actually, apparently she does."
antiIrony: No way would I leave ya hanging. Beau and Charlie have to have resolution!
Pitaqueen: Thanks for the enthusiastic welcome back!
BellaLou: Thanks as always. Glad to know the writing wasn't crap like I thought! As for Rach/Fulton, I'll see what I can do!
B: Thanks. We'll see how long before they actually talk now that Charlie's read the letters. Don't think everything is going to shape up all spic and span!
Cc: You always flatter me. Glad you liked. Yeah, Casey needs someone to deal with her. Too bad Charlie's too nice of a guy.
Sinbin05: Talk about making my day! Thank you so much. I am truly flattered and I hope you keep enjoying or I'm going to feel terrible!