Chapter 12
Joey took pride in spreading the story of Charlie’s attempted kiss. I wasn’t sure how I felt about that, but Charlie seemed to enjoy it. It was like the rumor blew a whole new personality into him. His voice fell almost an octave the couple of weeks after, and he began to act with a kind of strange swagger around me.
In a lot of ways, I appreciated it too. That kiss gave me something to focus on other than all of my Jessica problems. It made me feel desirable in a way I never really thought possible, and I’m not ashamed to admit that I felt more confident because of that.
I’d be lying if I didn’t mention the rest of the aftermath from that day, though. Jessica, seeming to grow bored with Loser McGee, had a lot of fun play-acting what I had looked like when I dropped the mic. She had a whole skit, complete with exaggerated facial expressions and some help from Maya, that she continued repeating long after no one found it funny. Then again, I didn’t think it was funny the first time, so I suppose I was somewhat biased.
Kent made sure I saw less of Mom with each passing day... No, I suppose that’s misleading. She spent more time with him, and less with me, but I don’t think it was out of any real animosity. He simply wanted to spend time with her, and in my mind quality time didn’t include Kent, so I lost out on a lot of opportunities.
Near the end of October—nearly a year since we’d tried out at Cat’s Cradle—we were practicing in Charlie’s garage, with the door all the way down to keep out the downpour outside. Drops were hitting the metal door, producing an annoying pinging sound that made it hard to focus. Charlie’s dad’s red SUV had picked up some scratches along the side, and a pile of cardboard boxes further limited our practice space.
“Do you ever think we’re about as good as we’re gonna get from practicing in here?” Charlie asked, pulling at one of the tuning knobs on his guitar.
“Yeah, sometimes,” I admitted. “But we can’t exactly do the downtown thing again. I don’t think that helped us too much.”
“No, I know. But it’s almost been a year since the last time we tried to get a gig. I was thinking that in a few weeks we could start asking around again.”
I looked to Joey, trying to gauge his reaction. His impassive expression wasn’t much help. “Okay, we can ask around,” I said. “But I want to try Cat’s Cradle first, so that we don’t make fools of ourselves.”
Joey scoffed. “That guy can’t tell the difference between real rock and an old Barney cassette tape. He’s just an idiot.”
I couldn’t help thinking that perhaps the reason why Joey didn’t like the idea was the same as why I’d suggested it—or at least, related to why I’d suggested it. I trusted him to be honest, and Joey was afraid that he would be. I understood; if he told us we still weren’t good enough, it would feel like the past year had been wasted. “Still, I think we should… He’ll tell us if there’s something we have to work on, before we waste our time looking around for auditions that might never come.”
“That makes sense,” Charlie said. He caught my eye and smiled; it was a strange smile, similar to the friendly way Charlie had always looked at me, but with an undercurrent of emotions I couldn’t quite figure out.
“You’re only agreeing with her because you luurv her,” Joey teased. “But fine, whatever. When do you guys want to do it?”
I shrugged. “I dunno. In a couple of weeks like Charlie said, I guess.” They both nodded; with the question settled, the conversation dropped off. We stood in relative quiet for a few seconds.
Joey checked the time on his phone. “Well, if practice is just about over, I guess I’m gonna head out.”
With the driving rain outside, I wasn’t too keen on walking home. As Joey packed his guitar in its case and leaned it against the corner wall, I took my time unplugging the mic and collapsing my stand. It was a mindless task, since we’d done it hundreds of times. Practice over, time to clear away the equipment until tomorrow.
I was sitting on one of the white steps leading into Charlie’s house, gently packing my microphone into its worn cardboard box when I heard Charlie clear his throat. “Hey, um…” he said, “The Homecoming dance is tomorrow, you know. And…”
“I’d love to.” Too late, I realized how it might seem that I’d just assumed that was where he was going. “I mean, if you wanted to go with me, I’d love to. If not, that’s cool too.”
“But I do. I really do.” He took a step forward, reaching out to grab my free hand. “Actually, I wanted to talk about that kiss too. I didn’t mean to upset you. I just wanted to… I don’t know, you looked sad, and I thought it might cheer you up. But I guess it was also pretty stupid to assume that you’d see it as a good thing.”
Was it a good thing? I asked myself. “Actually, I don’t think you need to apologize. I, um… It’s just that it was my first kiss, so that was probably why I responded like that.” I felt like my brain was moving slower than normal, trying to process everything he’d said. “Did you really kiss me just because you wanted to cheer me up?”
“No, of course not. I wanted to do it.” He looked down at the guitar hanging low over his shoulder. “I just think that the reason I chose to kiss you at that exact moment was because of how I thought you felt, if that makes sense.”
His hands holding mine were soft, except for the fingertips. I moved my index finger along one of his calluses, tracing the hard skin. “Good, I’m glad. And in a way, it totally makes sense.” I had needed that kiss; it had made my life so much more livable to have something to fixate on other than Jessica and Loser McGee.
“So… Do you wanna be my girlfriend?” Charlie let go of my hand and sighed. “Sorry, I should be so much smoother than this. The funny thing is, I know exactly what I should say and how I should say it, but for some reason it isn’t coming out right.”
“Oh, that’s okay.” Somehow, the boy before me seemed more honest than the Charlie I’d known before. I felt as if he was opening himself up completely; I chose my words carefully to keep from hurting him. “I wanna be your girlfriend. Thanks for asking.” It felt too formal, saying it like that. So I gave up on my failing words and leaned forward.
Our kiss before wasn’t anything special. I hadn’t known that at the time, but I did the moment our lips met for a real first kiss. It was wet and warm, and it felt familiar, like coming home after a long day.
I inhaled as he moved away. “Charlie… That was nice.” It was funny how I spent so much of my time with words—playing with their meanings, molding them into songs—and yet when I needed them most they escaped my grasp.
“I agree.” He chuckled softly. “I’ll, um, see you tomorrow. My dad said he could take us there, if that’s okay. Or we could just walk, or—“
“That sounds great. However you want to handle it will be fine with me.” This was uncharted territory, a place that I never thought I’d find myself, especially with Charlie. My only guide was how Mom always acted around men, and I wasn’t sure whether that should fall into the category of behavior to imitate, or behavior to avoid like the plague.
If I were being poetic, I suppose I would have described the subsequent walk home as warm, bright, exciting. Singing in the rain type of stuff. In all honesty, the driving rain wasn’t any warmer and the sun was hidden behind clouds. But I was still smiling.