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The fury was bubbling slowly, deep in his veins, as he watched Charlie walk through his bedroom door. He stood in awe, and walked to the window to glance out at the driveway where her car was parked. He listened carefully for the front door, to hear her footsteps returning, anything that would give him a hint that she’d changed her mind.

Come back to me. You can’t do this.

The small clock on his nightstand echoed with each tick, making the room feel smaller and his anticipation rise. He heard a jingle and a quiet click from downstairs. The silence crept up the stairwell, through the hallway and into his room. Even then, a part of him still denied that Charlie had left him.

He closed his eyes and exhaled.

He heard the muffled sound of her car door closing and the start of her engine. Glancing out the window in disbelief, he saw her pause for a moment. After lighting a cigarette, she stepped on the gas.

Jesse was fueled with hatred. He had trusted the wrong one. After finally gaining the courage it took to confide and respect someone, she left him. Just like the rest of them.

He threw on a pair of sweats and made his way down to the kitchen. He opened the cupboard and took out his medication. Staring into the palm of his hand at an assortment of pills, he froze as his mind raced about Charlie.

How could she do this? Is this more of our fucking game? Does she expect me to come running after her? No. She knows me better than that. See, I told you. You just had to go and fuck her. You knew everything would change, and yet, what? You hoped. You hoped she’d want to see who you really are? You hoped she’d accept you for all your flaws, scars, moods? You hoped she was different?

You hoped.

This snuck up on me.

Fuck hope. Hope is for the weak-minded. And fuck Charlie! Who does that? Who just gets up and leaves when someone is about to bare their fucking soul?

No, fuck Charlie. FUCK YOU, CHARLIE!

Jesse threw his medication across the room and began ripping the cabinets off their hinges. One by one, he wrestled and whipped across the room. They banged the bookshelves and shattered the windows. In his menacing rage, verging on madness, he began kicking and punching walls, ripping the curtains off the windows and overturning tables just to hear them crack on the floor. There was screeching in his ears and his head began to ache. He walked swiftly to the bookshelf and plucked off the remaining books, ripping out the pages by the handful and tossing the crippled bindings against the wall.

He stepped back and glanced around the room. Not a single moment of regret passed through him when he saw the disaster before him. The walls were chipped and broken. Framed pictures were tilted and the glass was in pieces. The cold spring air was rushing in through the broken window frames, cooling the room quickly, which only made the scorching blood traveling through his veins tolerable.

He stood, trying to focus one thought. Any thought. Something that could erase all the damage that had spun from the past two hours. He ran upstairs and stood in the entryway, staring into his bedroom. She was here. She was here just a moment ago. And now you’ve lost her. He stepped to the edge of his bed, looking down at the messed sheets. Picking up a pillow, he buried his face into it and breathed in deeply. That damn perfume. Hugging the pillow to his waste, he grabbed his chest and sunk; his knees collapsed to the floor.

He sat slouched, resting his hands on his knees. Staring into a sea of dirty clothes and loose change that littered his carpet, he tried to make sense of Charlie’s motivations.

“I’ll never be able to be everything you need me to be. And that’s okay. I just needed to be here for you. Your friend, your lover. Your confidante. I wouldn’t change a single moment of it. But you need to realize that love is more than just obsession wrapped up in a tiny, dancing brunette package.”

He glanced down at his tattoo on his forearm and traced the lines with his finger. His thoughts slowed and his mind emptied. He grabbed his hair and slumped his head between his knees.

“What the fuck!” Jesse’s head shot up when he heard Jake’s voice from downstairs.

Jesse rose quickly and grabbed a T-shirt from the floor. Pulling it over his head, he paused at his torso with a thought.

“Jesse Fucking Anders! Where the fuck are you? I’m going to kick your ass!” Jake’s voice rumbled through the hallway and Jesse grabbed his shoes and keys.

“I’m here,” Jesse said, quickly stepping down from the stairs.

Jake was standing in the middle of the living room assessing the damage.

“You want to explain this to me? What the hell happened here?”

“Not now. I gotta go,” Jesse said.

“What? No. You’re not going anywhere until you tell me who trashed my dad’s house,” Jake said, his face turning red.

“I did.”

Jake’s eyes opened wide and his mouth hung open as Jesse approached the front door.

“That’s all you’re going to say? No explanation?”

“Not now, I have to take care of something,” he said as he opened the door.

“Okay. Fine. That’s the way it’s gonna be? You’ve got one week to find a new place to live!” Jake shouted through the door just as Jess shut it behind him.

~

It’s one of those moments. It’s a moment so fragile, that if I move or speak, the whole thing will collapse. So I’ll just sit here, in this dirty chair, in a place that shouldn’t be open at midnight, and listen to the buzz vibrating in my head. I’ll listen to the screech of the needle as it collides with the layers of my skin, giving me a different kind of hope. One that I can make myself.

Taking a drink straight from the bottle, Jesse welcomed the physical pain he was enduring in order for the clawing in his gut to ease.

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Chapter 1

January 27, 2013 — 8 Comments

Prologue

I admit, I didn’t think much of Charlie at first. She was rounder than the girls that usually catch my eye. Not my type. But when I saw her sitting in that booth all alone, for the first time something in my mind or my instincts or my heart told me to join her.

 

She defied me. She challenged me. She gave me hope. Before I knew it, moving forward was my only option.


 

 

Part 1

Charlie

Chapter 1

Charlie was three weeks into her new job and loved it. It was simple and every time she sought out something to do, she was praised for it. Evidently all the hostesses in the past just stood there and fiddled with their lipstick and manicures.

On that particular Tuesday night, it was slow. Charlie sat fourteen tables all evening and watched as the buss staff were all sent home and most of the cooks as well. She had answered the phone often, so she knew delivery had been busy, but the majority of the wait staff were sitting at a large table chatting while they waited for food to come up for their tables. Charlie sat slumped in her chair listening to the idle chitchat that was the focus of all their conversations: gossip, rumors and diets.

Her posture instantly changed as someone she’d never seen before, wearing a Crimson Cellar uniform, strode out from the kitchen doors. She watched him walk across the dining room like he was on a mission and stood waiting at the front desk for the hostess on shift. She sat up straight and her eyes opened wide.

She noticed his shoulders first: broad and muscular. Then her eye traveled down to his waist and hips. She watched his confident stride and examined his face a little closer. He had a defined jaw line, a perfect little nose, and sad, hazy eyes.

“Oh shit!” she spat out. He’s waiting for me.

By the time she arrived at the front desk, he had his delivery receipts ready to cash out. Her hands started to quiver and her pulse raced. She didn’t dare look at him again because she could already feel herself blushing and butterflies fluttering in her belly.

As she started working on his receipts, he paused momentarily for a brief glance at her. “You’re new. Where’s Justine?” he asked, shuffling through his paperwork, seemingly uninterested in her response.

“I don’t know.” She heard the pitch of her voice bounce and she struggled to avoid his eyes.

They stood in silence, restlessly busying themselves with their own organization. She handed him his evening’s tips and gave a quiet smile. He took the money without a word and walked to the back.

She was overwhelmed with extreme tension and her own animal magnetism and was alarmed to know someone could knock the wind out of her. She had made note of his name tag: Jesse. Vowing to stay away from him if she ever wanted to get any work done, she allowed her lungs to take in a surge of air.

Minutes later, Jesse came out from the kitchen in street clothes holding a wadded up Crimson T-shirt in his hand and no hat. Dark blonde. The pale aqua shirt made his gray eyes turn bright blue. It was a short-sleeved, button-down linen shirt that displayed his frame and the muscles in his forearms were defined. He had a farmer’s tan line she could see just under the sleeves of his biceps and a black tattoo of vertical wavy lines on the inside of his left forearm. Odd. He wasn’t too big or bulky, but just right. She imagined what that body must look like naked. What? Naked? She felt herself getting warmer, as if he were pressing himself against her.

“Holy Lord,” she said and looked away again.

He walked into the bar, ordered the Crimson’s microbrew and sat down. Half his beer disappeared in minutes. She found herself glancing over, despite telling herself not to look.

As her eyes darted in and out of the bar area, she tried to stand in a position to block her range of vision of him. She stared at the wall that segmented the view of his booth, willing it to crumble so that she could watch him. As her eyes floated around the restaurant, and as she peeked at him, their eyes locked. His facial expression was unreadable and she looked away quickly. Her stomach lurched as she realized she was busted. She made herself a promise that she wouldn’t go into the bar after her shift, not if he was there. She knew she’d make a fool of herself just by staring, let alone if she could stop blushing long enough to actually speak to him.

The phone rang and it pulled her from her strayed thoughts.

“Thank you for calling The Crimson Cellar. This is Charlie. May I help you?”

“Yeah, can you tell Je…I…na….ittl…late?”

“Hello? You’re cutting out –” Charlie said while covering her ear to block out the noise from the kitchen and the chatter from the bar.

“Can you hear me now?” a man’s voice said.

“Yes, better. Now, what can I do for you?”

“Yeah, this is Jake. I’m supposed to be meeting Jesse in the bar after his shift. Is he done yet?”

A sudden burst of heat flamed around her cheeks.

“I’m not sure I know who you’re talking about.” She decided to play dumb.

“You must be new. Are you hot?” he asked.

“Excuse me?” Did he just ask that?

“Never mind. I’ll hear about you if you are. Look, he’s not answering his phone, so just tell him when you see him I’m on my way. I got…detained.” He laughed at the last remark and hung up.

Great. Of course. She’d have to speak to him now.

“Pull yourself together, Charlie! Damn it!” she whispered to herself and rolled her eyes.

She had to tell herself that he was just a person. Like anyone else. No one special. Not intimidating. Not sexy. Not put on this earth to tempt her. And certainly not someone who would be interested in her the same way. That last one helped.

She made her way to his booth with hesitancy. The walk over seemed to take forever. Time slowed. Quiet noises boomed and echoed in her ears. She took one sharp inhale as she came within feet of the table.

“You’re Jesse, right?”

His eyebrows shot up and he removed the mug from his lips as he nodded with a mouth full of beer.

Oh God, those lips. Focus, focus, focus…

“Yeah,” he said.

“Jake just called saying he was on his way. He got…detained. I felt it was important that I add the pause,” she said, smirking.

“Ha! I bet he did. Did he say how long he’d be?”

“No, sorry.”

She smiled uncomfortably and turned to leave the tableside. She was a few steps away when she heard, “Wait!” shouted over the music.

She turned back and lightened her expression.

“Do you have any smokes?” he asked.

“Not on me, sorry.” Noticing his knee bouncing under the table, she shrugged and walked towards the front desk again.

She was quite proud of herself for playing it cool. Now, if she could just find the strength she had just used to keep up this façade, all would be great. If only.

This wasn’t going to be easy.

#

All the employees received one free beer after a shift; an unexpected benefit of the job. Sometimes Charlie took out her notebook to write, other times she sat and watched the regulars. Most nights, coworkers would join her after their shifts and order dinner. It was a relaxing place to count their tips and enjoy their beer.

If a coworker had a bad night or had just broken up with a boyfriend, Charlie’s booth was the place to go. She was able to find the right words or knew when no words should be spoken. She had an intense connection with people and emotions, which is what made the bullying so much harder on her growing up.

Charlene Johnson was stuck in this life; this body. Her entire life she had been overweight. No, fat. Her entire life she had been fat fat. It was the word that echoed in her thoughts as she walked alone down the suburban Minneapolis sidewalks and the halls of every school she’d ever attended.

As if school years weren’t torturous enough.

#

She was thankful for Jesse’s discretion in any assumptions he made of her at first glance, as he hadn’t laughed or judged her for her size. It had been a quiet interaction; normal and unpretentious. But her paranoia and insecurities seized her conscience. For as exquisite as she found him to be, she was certain he found her beastly but refrained from saying so.

She avoided the bar completely after her shift and drove home. Shaking her head and chuckling to herself when she thought about how silly she had been.

Grateful for the short drive home, Charlie waved to her parents as she walked downstairs to her bedroom and put her feet up. At the age of twenty-three, she had concluded that four hour shifts were perfect as she had only short bursts of extremely good work ethic. The extra weight she carried made it a challenge to stand for longer periods of time.

After a few hours of drawing in an oversized sketchbook, she got into her bed that night feeling energetic, antsy and anticipatory. After debating whether she should watch a movie or lie restlessly in an attempt to sleep, she got up, put on her tennis shoes and threw in an aerobic DVD. After ten very long minutes of running and kicking in place, she plopped back down on the bed, exhausted.

Drifting asleep, she envisioned herself thin and desired. Her hair long and her legs toned. A dream of having someone like Jesse want her, desperately. She’d be able to wear skirts without feeling self-conscious and she’d be able to walk in high heels without feeling imbalanced. The more she thought about the person she wanted to be, the more she needed it.

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