"You do know our mother is dying in there, right? And she isn't taking her time about it."
Landry looks up from his glass of bourbon at his sister. "I know, because I rushed her to the hospital last night." He looks back down at his glass and takes another long sip.
Charlotte understands. Her brothers are in pain, and she's sure the night had been incredibly difficult for Landry, who had taken care of everything alone. They need a mental respite from what's happening. Charlotte had just spent a half hour with her family to calm down and center herself. But it wasn't too long ago that she would have chosen to try to ignore the pain, drown it out with anonymous sex. Before that it had been pills. So, really she understands.
Charlotte settles herself into one of the wicker chairs in the garden. It's peaceful out here. She wonders if her brothers like it here because of the time she spent rocking them on the swing in this garden when they were little. Charlotte is five and a half years older than Landry and nearly seven years older than Duke. Their mother's drug use had escalated badly after her youngest son was born, and Augusta had taken to spending ever-increasing amounts of time in her room. There had always been nannies to take care of the King children, but Charlotte loved being a big sister, and from the moment Landy was born she had insisted on carrying him around like a baby doll and singing him to sleep.
By the time Duke was born, Charlotte's care taking had become less of a childhood amusement and more of a necessity. They had a particularly cold nanny then, and while she would take care of all the children's basic needs, she would never be nurturing with them. So, Charlotte had taken on the role herself, and sometimes she still feels more like a mother to Duke than a sister.
Big Daddy would see Charlotte sitting in the garden with her brothers when he was on his way to work. He'd stop and tell Charlotte how sweet she was, and it wasn't until she'd gotten older that she'd wondered why he hadn't been concerned that his ten year old daughter was taking care of his sons while his wife was locked in her room with bourbon and valium.
"I'm going to go and sit with Momma. She may not be conscious for too much longer," Charlotte tells her brother.
Landry swirls the amber liquid in his glass a moment, before downing it in a gulp. "Let's go," he tells his sister standing up.
Duke hasn't even acknowledged the conversation, and he simply keeps staring into his glass. "Duke," Charlotte says, and he looks up. "You going to come with us?" Duke shakes his head, and for a minute it pisses Charlotte off. It pisses her off that her grown brother doesn't have the strength to do what her nine year old son did just months ago and say goodbye to his mother. But Charlotte recognizes that she's angry at the whole situation more than that she's angry at her brother. He's doing the best he can, she figures. Charlotte stands, clasps Duke on the shoulder, and walks back to the house with Landry.
"Thanks for taking care of everything yesterday, Lan," Charlotte tells her brother once they are settled into chairs on either side of their mother's bed.
"Don't worry about it," he tells her. Landry knows that his sister feels guilty for not being the one to take care of her family. She's the oldest and a woman, and in the small town where they grew up, the idea of her leaving to pursue a career elsewhere is not smiled upon. Charlotte had an itch to explore and travel and learn since Landry can remember, so it didn't come as a surprise to him when she'd accepted a spot at Harvard for college. Landry on the other hand loved his life in Monroeville. He'd taken over the family business when their father died and couldn't imagine leaving his hometown.
Augusta spends the next few hours floating in and out of consciousness, and Charlotte tries her hardest to comfort her mother with soothing words and touches. Charlotte had felt closer to Erica in her dying days than to Augusta now. Charlotte and Erica had been bonded by love for their child, and Erica had allowed herself to be vulnerable with Charlotte, to take comfort in Charlotte's presence. Augusta on the other hand was being stoic to the last. Even now in her final moments of lucidity, she doesn't let her emotions show.
As Augusta slips out of consciousness for the last time, Charlotte keeps holding her mother's hand. Charlotte knows what it's like to refuse to let it show when you're terrified. In a lot of ways, Augusta reminds Charlotte of who she used to be: an addict, a woman emotionally closed off from those around her. And Charlotte knows that loneliness, so she holds her mother's hand and hopes that despite everything between them, Augusta takes some comfort in her daughter's presence.
Charlotte wipes her eyes and looks over at Landry as Augusta loses consciousness. His eyes are wet too, and it's comforting to Charlotte to be sitting here with her brother. Charlotte gets lost in her thoughts for a few minutes before Landry breaks the silence. "Do you remember your baptism?"
Charlotte laughs and tells her brother, "I thought Momma was going to be so mad." Augusta had dressed her daughter in yet another atrocious family dress that Charlotte absolutely hated. At 13, Charlotte was something of a tomboy and had developed a sharp oppositional streak. So right after her mother had wrangled her into her dress and set her hair, Charlotte had taken her horse for a ride. She'd come back an hour later covered from head to toe in mud.
"But she just laughed and laughed," Landry says.
"I think that was the hardest I ever heard her laugh," Charlotte tells him. Augusta's breathing becomes erratic then, and Charlotte lays her hand on her mother's forehead. "It's ok, Momma," Charlotte soothes as her mother stops breathing. Charlotte says a silent prayer that her mother will finally find peace.