(It Was Almost) The First Time in Forever
by Ginny
Ch 4
If anyone is reading, thank you.
Monday morning dawns and I know I've slept well. I climb out of bed at 7, leaving Charlie to sleep a while longer, I'm sure he could use all the sleep he can get in preparation for what I'm sure will be another fun filled week with the "devil".
Charlie pads down the stairs a little after 8. He's showered, shaved and halfway dressed. He's got on a plaid shirt, bowtie hanging around his neck, blue socks and boxers. He's carrying a blue jacket and his shoes in one hand.
"Not that I'm complaining about your lack of pants Charlie, but I think you should probably put some on for the office," I tease as I pour him a cup of coffee.
"Yeah, were you able to get the coffee stain out of my favorite khaki pants?" he asks as he drapes his jacket over a kitchen chair and drops his shoes on the floor. Apparently my teasing fell flat.
"They are on the dryer. What do you want for breakfast?" I ask him as I turn on the television and change the channel to ACN.
"Charlie, breakfast?" I call a minute later when I don't get an answer.
He comes out of the laundry room a minute later, pants on, shirt tucked in, tie still undone.
"Honey, sit down." I take him by the hand and move him in the general direction of the nearest stool. I get a good look at him and I'm not real happy with what I see. He's pale and despite over 8 hours sleep he still looks worn out. "You feel okay?" I ask as I brush the back of my hand over his cheek. He's cool.
"I don't know. Still feel a little off," he admits as he picks up the coffee mug. He's about to take a big sip when he turns slightly green and puts it back down and pushes it away.
"You want to try tea instead?"
"I'll take some tea. And before you ask, I don't think I can eat anything."
"Okay, why don't you think about working from here today?"
"I can't. I have to go in and face the Devil."
I don't say anything, I know whatever I say is not going to change his mind. I'll do what I usually do in situations like this, I text Mac and Sloan and ask them to keep an eye on him. It's almost as good as being there and he's less likely to give them a hard time about hovering over him.
I make him some tea and toss a banana and some crackers in his briefcase in case he changes his mind about eating on the ride into the city.
At three minutes after 10, Chris his driver knocks on the door. He enjoys a cup of my coffee while Charlie runs upstairs to brush his teeth. When he comes back down I straighten his tie, kiss his cheek and send the two of them on their merry way.
Over a second cup of coffee I text Mac and Sloan. Both agree to keep an eye on him for me. Mac will visit Will later as she does every Monday. We'll have a late lunch together on Thursday and commiserate as we've done for the past 6 weeks.
I putter around the yard for a bit, talk to Katie on the phone and work on Ned's quilt.
As I'm eating lunch I hear my text alert go off. Takes me a minute to find my phone under a pile of fabric in the sewing room. It's from Mac.
-you weren't kidding about him looking like crap. Tried to get him to eat something, no luck
Five minutes pass and it is Sloan's turn to give me an update.
-ugh, he just bolted from the conference room with his hand over his mouth.
I wait 20 minutes and I'm just about to call his cell phone when Mac texts again.
-Chris is picking him up, will be home in about an hour. Call me later and let me know how he is. Going to visit Will later, see you for lunch on Wednesday.
I open the pantry to check our supply of ginger ale and crackers. We're okay on both.
At a few minutes before 3 the front door opens. Chris walks in carrying Charlie's briefcase. He drops it on the bench in the foyer as Charlie drags himself in the front door. I grab him by the arm, and steer him towards the bench, not sure how long he's going to remain upright. I decline Chris' offer to help me get him settled.
"Den or bedroom?" I ask as I help him out of his jacket and pull his bowtie free. He toes off his shoes and kicks them under the bench.
"Bathroom," he mutters and takes off for the powder room down the hall.
A good fifteen minutes later and he's still in there. I sneak in behind him with a can of ginger ale and a washcloth. I put the cool cloth on the back of his neck and rub his back as he dry heaves. Eventually he sits back on his heels and take a deep breath.
"Here," I say as I hand him the ginger ale. I reach around him and flush as he takes a small sip. "Ready to get up?"
"I think so," he sighs as he lets me help him up. I put the lid down and he sits for a minute. I find a new toothbrush in the cabinet and hand it to him. I pull him to his feet and hang in the doorway as he brushes his teeth.
"Den," he mutters as he shuffles past me.
I get him settled on the couch in the den with the ginger ale and a plastic bowl. He's asleep within minutes. I call Mac and let her know he made it home and that if I have anything to say about it, he will not be going to the office tomorrow. She's on her way to see Will and I tell her to give him our best. I know Charlie had planned on going with her to see Will and he's going to be upset.
Charlie's still asleep an hour later. I've checked on him a few times but he hasn't moved. I sew for a while, think about what I'm going to say to my husband and eventually sit in the recliner to read.
A chapter into my book I hear Charlie starting to stir a bit. I get up and perch on the edge of the couch, rubbing his back a little.
"What time is it?" he whispers as he looks around, clearly trying to get his bearings.
"Almost 5. How do you feel?" I ask as I brush back his hair. I press a kiss to his forehead to check his temperature. He's thankfully cool.
"I don't know," he mutters as he props himself up a little in the corner of the couch.
"I have a theory," I start carefully. "I don't think what's going on now has anything to do with the little virus you probably had over the weekend. I mean you were fine by yesterday afternoon, you had enough energy for other things last night," I tease lightly. He smiles and lets out a little laugh as he leans forward to kiss me.
"Sorry, continue with your theory, Dr. Skinner," he asks with another smile.
"I think a lot of it has to do with anxiety and stress." He starts to put up his hand in protest but I just shake my head. "No, listen to me. When you see Dr. Matthews on Thursday I want you to be honest with him about what you've been going through. I think you need more help than what I can give you."
"Like what?" he asks, knowing full well what my answer is going to be. I hold off on answering, waiting for him to say it. "Medication?"
"Possibly," I answer quietly as I lean forward a bit, resting my forehead against his. He takes a deep breath and reaches for my hands.
"Wouldn't be the first time," he sighs.
"No it wouldn't." He's taken something for anxiety a few times over the years. It's always worked for him.
"Maybe you're right," he sighs. I expected more of a fight but surprisingly the fact that he's not really fighting me on the issue doesn't freak me out as much as I thought it would. "Damn," he mutters a minute later.
"What?"
"I was supposed to go with Mac to visit Will today," he says sadly
"I know. She'll give him your best and you can go see him next Monday."
He nods a little, it's not like he can do anything about it now.
"It's beautiful out, how about you change and go sit outside for a little while. Try and clear your head a bit."
"Okay," he agrees. He holds out his hand to me and I pull him to his feet.
He heads upstairs to change, coming back down a few minutes later in a pair of cargo shorts and an ancient long sleeve Marine Corp t-shirt.
"Give me your phone." He hands it over without a word and takes the can of ginger ale I'm holding out to him. With a swat to the rear I send him outside to get some fresh air.
So far, so good. But I've yet to broach the subject of working from home tomorrow. Who knows, maybe he'll surprise me.
I water the plants on the front porch, giving Charlie a little time alone out back. I walk up the drive to the mailbox, remembering I never retrieved the mail earlier.
Nothing but bills and credit card offers in the mail.
I pour myself a glass of iced tea and head out back. Charlie's not on the deck, the soda can is there as is his iPad. I see him out by the pool, skimming leaves off the surface of the water. I flick the switch for the hot tub and walk down the steps. I sit on the side of the tub, sticking my feet in. I'm half tempted to go back in and put on my bathing suit but the urge passes quickly. Charlie finishes fishing the leaves out of the pool a few minutes later and joins me at the hot tub.
He's quiet as he sits next to me, gently kicking his feet through the water. The sun is starting to set over the horizon and the crickets and frogs start their nightly chorus.
"Honey, are you okay?" I eventually ask as I lean into him a little with my shoulder.
"I think so. Think you might have been right about things. I feel better now, calmer. Fresh air helped, I think. What would you think if I worked from home tomorrow?"
"I think that's a perfect idea," I whisper as I scoot over closer to him. He drapes his arm over my shoulders and kisses my cheek. "How about some soup for dinner?"
"Sounds great."
Although Charlie doesn't eat much at dinner, he does look a lot better and was almost chatty. He heads up to his office to make a few calls. I know he wants to call Mac to talk both about the night's broadcast of News Night and about her visit to see Will. He also needs to let Pruitt know about tomorrow. I'm hoping he will just text him and not actually talk to him.
The hope of that happening ends when I hear Charlie's raised voice floating down the stairs a few minutes before 8:00. I hear some stomping, the sound of him probably slamming a book down on his oak desk and some choice words he tries not to use in front of me.
Against my better judgment I pour him a drink and take it up to him. He's wrapping up the call with Pruitt as I stand in the doorway, waiting for him to finish. He ends the call and tosses the phone halfway across the room, thankfully onto the couch, so not to cause any damage to it. I hand him the glass and pick up the phone, setting it on the end table next to the couch. He takes a few sips, savoring the taste of the bourbon before saying anything to me.
"So, the Devil wasn't too happy," he snorts as he flicks on the television to watch Sloan fill in for Will on News Night.
"Yeah, I don't really care," I smirk as I take him by the hand and lead him to the couch. I settle down on the couch and Charlie sits next to me, his bare feet on the coffee table. The broadcast starts and Charlie starts talking, partly to himself and partly to Mac and Sloan, both of whom, of course, can't hear him. I watch with thinly veiled amusement, something I've learned to perfect over the past few decades.
When the bourbon is done I take the glass from him and pull him closer. He grabs a pillow and settles down with his head in my lap. I mess with his hair as he watches the second half of the show. He's basically stopped the running commentary but does flinch every once in a while when things don't go the way he had expected.
When the show ends he reaches for the phone to call Don and talk to him before his broadcast. I leave him alone to do that. Sitting and watching Charlie talk on the phone really doesn't excite me all that much. He blows a kiss in my direction as I head back downstairs.
Charlie comes back down about 9:30 looking a little….something. Can't quite put my finger on it. He passes by the kitchen with his glass in his hand, heading I'm sure to the den for a refill. I keep my mouth shut, something else I've perfected over the years.
I'm emptying the dishwasher when he wanders back in and sits at the kitchen table. He slides the glass back and forth between his hands, saying nothing.
"Okay Charles, what?" I sigh, not really in the mood to drag things out of him.
"Just trying to convince Don to do the Princeton story. I know it's what Pruitt wants, he thinks it's what our "young" viewers want to see. But the whole thing is fucking ridiculous."
I raise my eyebrows as I always do when he drops the f-bomb in our home.
"Sorry. I hope Don doesn't do it, hope he doesn't find her."
"Charlie is there any chance that Don won't find her?"
"Yeah, if he suddenly goes deaf, dumb and blind by tomorrow morning," he snorts.
I can't help but laugh. Charlie loves Don, he is so proud of him. He knows Don will come through and figure things out. I just hope Charlie is still in one piece when that happens.
I put the last of the dishes away and cross the room to stand behind Charlie. I leans back a bit and I rub his shoulders a little. To say he's tense is an understatement. His breathing is more ragged than it was when he came down.
"Honey, you're getting too worked up. Take a deep breath." He manages to take a deep breath. "Good, hold it for a second," I coach. We do a little deep breathing for a few minutes until I'm satisfied he's gotten himself under control. He glances at his watch and then drains his glass before heading for the den to watch Elliot's show.
I check on him halfway through Elliot's show, he's in the recliner with a glass in one hand, cell phone in the other. He's vaguely aware of my presence as I take a seat on the couch with my book and a cup of tea.
Elliot signs off and Charlie drains his glass once again. I think he's catching up on the drinking he didn't do over the weekend. I keep my thoughts to myself. If he wants to drink too much and end up with his head hanging over the toilet, that's his business.
Who am I kidding, if that happens I will be kneeling behind him holding his head and rubbing his back.
And at a few minutes after midnight that's exactly where we are. At least we're upstairs in our bathroom this time, where there is actually room for the two of us. I don't know how much of his current condition has to do with bourbon, he obviously has a great ability to hold his liquor. Something he has unfortunately perfected over the years. I stand by my theory that everything is just catching up with him in a miserable way. I am so happy he has an appointment with Dr. Matthews on Thursday.
"Done?" I whisper a few minutes later. Charlie nods and I flush and help him to his feet in a scene reminiscent of the one from this afternoon. He brushes his teeth and walks into the bedroom, facing planting on the bed with a groan.7
He's so pathetic at the moment I really can't help but laugh. He snorts a little into the comforter before dragging himself up to put his head on his pillow.
"I'm not sure I want to even work from home tomorrow," he whispers without even opening his eyes.
"It's up to you, sweetie."
I nudge him a little to get him under the covers. He stretches out on his stomach and I rub his back until he falls asleep at little before 1:00 AM.