"Do you mind being called Charlie?"
Peter was smiling lightly. It wasn't much of a big deal for him. Truly, he didn't see an issue with asking.
Charles froze.
What, it wasn't enough that he had to have his entire life flipped upside down, forced to live with complete strangers not once, but now three times and be moved out of the city that he'd grown up in for all his life; he had to have his name changed, too?
He didn't get a say in any of it, either. No one asked him whether he actually wanted to do this or that; no, they just forced him to. They insisted he would get used to it eventually. Didn't he have any rights?
"I do mind," Charles' voice came out cold.
/
He was overreacting. He had to be. It was just one little gesture meant to be nice. It was a little weird but Stephanie was like that. She probably thought she was being comforting or something. She'd likely had that done to her by own dad.
And forgetting that he wasn't big on being touched.
She must not have noticed how he'd stiffened when she'd touched the back of his neck while she was working when they'd been trying to win at their bet. It was sort of complicated. He didn't particularly like it either way but he could tolerate it more so when he was touching someone else. When he did it, he could be in control and knew what would happen-mostly. When other people did it, he was at their mercy-like with his dad. He didn't know what could happen, what they would do to him. He knew he sounded like a little girl but it was the truth.
The stiffening, the anticipation, it didn't happen this time.
And Charlie was deeply confused.
She'd touched him. She'd brushed his hair out of his face and to the side. He couldn't recall what she said after the fact, the memory was fuzzy. But he remembered how her fingers had felt. They'd lightly graze his forehead as she moved his hair.
It sent a jolt to his stomach.
It was so weird. It wasn't like he'd been startled-okay, he kinda was, but not like startled in a way like he was frightened. It was difficult to put into words. He'd felt warm all over despite actually feeling cold.
His mind had drafted back to that exact over the course of the week.
And his face felt hot.
It happened every time he thought of it. And every time he thought of it, his stomach did a giant leap. This was stupid. He was being stupid. That was the only word out here to describe it. Why else would he get so hung up over something so insignificant?
He laid on his bed, flat on his back, staring up at the ceiling, blowing out a puff of air. He'd put off calling Stephanie after that. Lucky for him, he had a legitimate excuse. She wouldn't question it if he told her he hadn't felt like calling. She would naturally assume that was due to him being sick. And anyway, it wasn't a total lie. He'd felt pretty crappy until yesterday when things began to improve.
It had been practically a week since he'd fallen ill and the whole ordeal of her coming into his bedroom and doing...that. Well, technically speaking, it was more like six days but Charlie counted it as a week anyway. He was better now. He could breathe out his nose, was able to tolerate food and water again and most of the aches and pains had left. That was a relief. It wasn't often that he got sick; when he did, though, it was terrible.
His head snapped up when he heard a knock against his door. It was his mom. It had to be, his dad was working. He quickly grabbed a sports magazine that had been laying on his nightstand, flipping it open to pretend he'd been reading through it. She would buy that; he didn't really get into most sports except for hockey, that did pique his interest.
He didn't want her to see him lying on his bed, staring like that. She would immediately assume something was wrong and proceed to pester him with questions. She'd then tell his dad when he got home, insisting that a 'man to man' talk was necessary.
And this wasn't something he wanted to talk about, not that it was really a something to begin with.
He knew she meant well. He just wished she didn't have to be so suffocating about it.
"You can come," he called.
The door opened.
"Hey," Mom gave him a smile. She was carrying a tray like she had during the past week when he hadn't felt good. "How are you feeling, sweetheart?"
"Fine," He shrugged.
"Just fine?" She said, "You're not feeling cold or anything?"
"I'm fine," he said, "really. Everything's good."
"Well, if you're sure," Mom sat down the tray. "I brought you some cookies and fruit punch."
"You didn't have to," he murmured. But he was pleased and appreciative nonetheless. "Thanks."
"Of course," she said fondly.
He lifted his eyes from the page. "Thought I wasn't allowed food in here?" The only exception had been when he was ill and too weak to make it downstairs to the kitchen table.
"This is the last time," She grinned. "Do you mind if I sit?' She gestured.
He sat up, tucking his feet underneath him. She sat beside him. He felt shy under her gaze. It was one of those tender looks where he wasn't sure if she was going to burst into tears or not. She had on previous occasions. She let out a blissful little sigh. "I can't believe how much you've grown," she told him. "You were just a little boy and now you're a man."
"Please don't cry," he chuckled. "You can't do it every time you say it."
"I can't help it," She laughed, wiping at her eyes. Yep, they were misty. "I can't believe how much time has passed."
He rolled his eyes good-naturedly. "Can't help but wonder how you'll react at graduation."
"Oh, I am definitely ugly crying at your graduation."
"That's the only way you do cry," he smirked lightly.
"Thanks," she said jokingly. "Appreciate it."
"Happy to be of help."
He saw something come into her eyes, like she just remembered something. "Oh my gosh," she seemed to say to herself. "I completely forgot to give it to you."
"Give me what?" he asked.
"The envelope!" She exclaimed as she got up and went downstairs, leaving him majorly confused.
"What envelope?" he said out loud.
She returned seconds later at record speed, holding out a manilla envelope.
"What's that?"
"That's for you," She handed it to him.
He gingerly took it from her. "For me?"
"It's from Stephanie," She was doing a poor job at hiding her glee like she always did whenever Stephanie was mentioned.
He didn't know what to think.
He couldn't think straight.
From Stephanie? He thought, blinking.
What could she possibly have to give him?
Unless this was an early birthday present. No, that wasn't right. He'd never told her when it was. Did one of his parents tell her? He didn't doubt that might have happened. They were like that. Well, his mom was like that. Seriously, he remembered the first birthday he spent with them and she'd insisted on taking him out and kept telling everyone-and he meant everyone-that it was his birthday.
"What is it?" He ran his thumb over the envelope. Whatever it was, it must have been thin like paper. It was like it was empty.
"I'm not sure," Mom said as she sat beside him again. "You might not remember it but she dropped it off the day she came to see you while you were sick."
He definitely remembered.
Remembered the touch, the grazing.
The jolt.
"I don't," he lied. "Must have been out of it."
"My poor baby," Mom said sympathetically and he cringed. "You looked so tired. Maybe you should take a nap just to be sure-"
"I'm fine," He said, his eyes pleading with her to understand. "Really. I promise you'll be the first to know if I do."
She relaxed a little. "Okay." Her eyes landed back on the envelope. He knew she was dying to know what was inside.
Slowly, he undid the silver clasp. He came across a handwritten note first thing.
Charlie,
You told me you didn't have any pictures of your mom, so I went out and found some
Please don't be mad
Stephanie
P.S. You look like your mom :)
His mind did not even register his mom's soft gasp. His heart practically stood still. The world ceased to move. His breath hitched and he didn't think he could form words if he tried.
She'd found some?
She'd found pictures of his mother?
He was stunned. Absolutely stunned.
Tossing the note aside, his trembling hands took out the rest of the envelope's contents. After the note was what looked like to be a photograph for an obituary. He didn't know where it was taken but she stood in front of a large tree; her hair was dark just like his except hers was long and it almost reached her waist. It stood out against her plain white dress. She was positively beaming at the camera, as if she hadn't a care in the world. As if she was truly, one hundred percent happy. He swallowed dryly, eyes absorbing all that he could as if the picture would disappear any moment now.
He looked like his mom.
His adoptive mom took a peek at the picture. She was close to crying again. Her hand was over her heart. "She was beautiful, Charlie."
He was nodding along. "Yeah," his voice was just above a whisper. "Yeah, she was."
On top of that, there were three other pictures inside; a wedding announcement-it didn't escape him that his father had been decidedly cut out of it-a birth announcement for him and one for his mom. He sat there in utmost amazement at what Stephanie had done for him.
Was this even real?
"And Stephanie gave you these?" His Mom asked.
"Yeah," he said dazedly. "She did."
"I had no idea that's what-oh, what a lovely girl she is," Mom said. "How sweet of her!"
He met her eyes. "Can I go over to Stephanie's?"
"Of course," She smiled lovingly.
He left on foot from his house.
/
It turned out not to be the best idea to walk in the summertime heat. For one, he was still technically recovering even though he felt pretty good. Two, it was scorching out but he stubbornly refused to take off his long-sleeved plaid shirt that was over his short-sleeved white one. And three, it was taking longer than it would have if he would have driven.
He knocked on the door and okay, okay, maybe he didn't have to do it four or five times. Give him a break. This was urgent.
Stephanie's sister, Michelle, answered the door. She seemed agitated. "I said it was coming."
"Where's your sister?" He said instead of acknowledging that. He hadn't heard her say anything. "I need to talk to Stephanie?"
"Oh, do you?" Michelle raised her eyebrows, crossing her arms.
"Yes," he said with annoyance.
"What about?" She said slyly.
"None of your business."
She narrowed her eyes at him.
"Don't you have some barbies to play with or something?" He said.
"I'm thirteen."
"I don't care," he said flatly. "Can I come in?"
She rolled her eyes, finally stepping aside so he could come in. "What's your problem? Puberty?"
He ignored that.
"Stephanie's upstairs," Michelle waved a hand in that direction.
He didn't bother thanking her as he went up there. He took back the times he wished for a little sibling. Or an older one. She was a little pest, he rolled his eyes and mocked to himself, "What's your problem?"
He just got around the corner when Stephanie was right there.
He jumped back.
And so did she. She inhaled sharply, her expression would have been downright comical if he hadn't been momentarily frightened himself.
"Charlie!" She scolded him, sounding embarrassed. "Don't do that!"
Usually, he would've had a comeback but now was not the time. "I didn't know you were right there," he said defensively.
"Well, I was," Stephanie had a hand on her chest. "Gosh..." She took a couple deep breaths. "I guess you're feeling better."
"Yeah," he said.
"That's good," She said and then she glanced at him and confusion clouded her face. "What are you even doing here anyway?"
Right.
The reason.
The reason why he'd come through the freaking heat and dealt with her bratty sister.
"I-" He rubbed his forearm. She stared. What was the matter with him? Just come out and say it. "I saw the pictures."
"Oh," She understood now. "Great. Cool. I...I wasn't sure if you saw them yet or not."
"I just saw them," he glanced at the floor.
"Do you like them?" She asked quietly.
"How...how did you find them?"
She shifted. "It's not important."
"Yes, it is," He insisted otherwise. "I didn't know there were any pictures of her around."
"There are," She said with a nod. "I found them. At the library." He tilted his head. "Yeah, turns out they have a whole room full of old newspapers and stuff."
"And you looked through all that...?" He dared to ask.
"Yeah," She laughed a little. "It took a while, like a few hours."
"You spent a few hours looking?" He couldn't believe it.
"Yeah," Her smile was sincere. "I did."
"Why?"
That was the big question.
Why?
He couldn't understand it. Why would she give up so much of her afternoon to look for pictures for him?
"Because you deserve it," She told him.
Charlie couldn't recall the last time he'd been told he deserved something or where someone did something nice for him out of the blue. His parents had, so technically yes. But that was them. This was different. Someone other than them did something for him. She'd put thought into it. No one had ever done that for him. He hadn't had friends do anything like that for him.
Ever.
Until now.
Because of her.
"I don't...I don't know what to say."
"You don't have to say anything," She said warmly. She got closer but didn't touch him. "You look like your mom," She echoed her words from the note.
A sort of breathy, genuinely happy laugh escaped from him. "I look like my mom."