I set the letters aside and begin to sift through Charlie's journals. I need to find the ones surrounding the events with our fathers. It seems to have been the catalyst in our relationship. I grab one and open it up to a random page.
I hate Annika. Oh my god, she's so stupid.
I flip to a different page. I kind of hate Annika too, but that's not important right now.
Silas baked me a cake for my birthday. It was awful. I think he forgot the eggs. But it was the most beautiful chocolate failure I've ever seen. I was so happy that I didn't even make a gag face when I ate a slice. But, oh god, it was so bad. Best boyfriend ever.
I want to keep reading that one, but I don't. What type of idiot forgets the eggs? I flip a few pages forward.
They took my dad today. I sit up straighter.
They took my dad today. I don't feel anything. Will the feelings come? Or maybe I feel everything. All I can do is sit here and stare at the wall. I feel so helpless, like I should be doing something. Everything has changed, and my chest hurts. Silas keeps coming to the house, but I don't want to see him. I don't want to see anyone. It's not fair. Why have kids if you're just going to do stupid shit and leave them? Dad says it's all a misunderstanding and that the truth will come out, but Mom hasn't stopped crying. And we can't use any of our credit cards, because everything has been frozen. The phone won't stop ringing, and Janette is sitting on her bed, sucking her thumb like when she was little. I just want to die. I hate whoever did this to my family. I can't even--
I flip a few pages forward.
We have to move out of our house. Dad's lawyer told us today. The court is seizing it to pay off his debt. I only know this because I was listening outside of the office door when he told Mom. As soon as he left, she locked herself in her bedroom and hasn't come out in two days. We have to be out of our house in five. I started packing some of our stuff, but I'm not even sure what we're allowed to keep. Or where we are supposed to go. My hair started falling out about a week ago. In big chunks when I brush it and when I'm in the shower. And yesterday, Janette got in trouble at school for scratching a girl on the face when she made fun of the fact our dad is in prison.
I have a couple thousand dollars in my savings account, but seriously, who is going to rent me an apartment? I don't know what to do. I still haven't seen Silas, but he comes every day. I make Janette tell him to go away. I'm so embarrassed. Everyone is talking about us, even my friends. Annika accidentally included me in a group text where they were sending each other prison memes. Come to think of it, I don't think it was an accident. She'd love to get her claws into Silas. Now's her chance. As soon as he realizes what an embarrassment my family has become, he won't want anything to do with me.
Ugh. Was that the type of person I was? Why did she think that? I would never...I don't think I would ever...
Would I...? I close the journal and rub my forehead. I'm getting a headache, and I don't feel any closer to figuring this out. I decide to read one more page.
I miss my house. It's not my house anymore, so can I still say that? I miss what used to be my house. Sometimes I go there, just stand across the street, and remember. I don't even know if life was so great pre-Dad in prison, or if I was just living in a luxurious bubble. At least I didn't feel like this. Like some loser. All Mom does is drink. She doesn't even care about us anymore. And you have to wonder if she ever did, or if we were just fixtures in her glamorous life, Janette and me. Because she only cares about the way she feels now.
I feel bad for Janette. I at least had a real life, with real parents. She's still little. It's going to mess her up because she's not even going to know what it's like to have a whole family. She's so mad all the time. I am too. Yesterday I made fun of this kid until he cried. It felt good. It felt bad too. But like Daddy said, as long as I'm meaner than they are, they can't touch me. I'll just beat them down until they leave me alone.
I saw Silas for a little bit after school. He took me for a burger and then drove me home. It was the first time he'd seen the shit pit we're living in now. I could see the shock on his face. He dropped me off, and then an hour later I heard a mower outside. He went home and picked up a mower and some tools to fix the place up. I wanted to love him for it, but it just embarrassed me.
He pretends he doesn't care about how much my life has changed, but I know he does. He has to. I'm not what I used to be.
My dad has been writing to me. He's said some things, but I don't know what to believe anymore. If he's right...I don't even want to think about it.
I look through the letters from her father. Which one is she talking about? Then I see it. My stomach churns.
Dear Charlize,
I spoke to your mother yesterday. She said you were still seeing Silas. I'm disappointed. I warned you about his family. His father is the reason I'm in prison, yet you continue to love him. Do you realize how much that hurts me?
I know you think you know him, but he's no different from his father. They're a family of snakes. Charlize, please understand that I'm not trying to hurt you. I want to keep you safe from those people, and here I am, locked up behind these bars, unable to take care of my own family. A warning is really all I can give you, and I hope that you heed my words.
We lost everything--our house, our reputation, our family. And they still have everything that was theirs as well as everything that was ours. It's not right. Please, stay away from them. Look what they did to me. To all of us.
Please tell your sister that I love her.
Dad
I feel sympathy for Charlie after reading the letter. A girl torn between a boy who obviously loved her and a father who manipulated her.
I need to visit her father. I find a pen and write down the return address from the letters he's sent to her. I pull out my phone and Google it. The prison is a good two-and-a-half-hour drive from New Orleans.
Two and a half hours one way is a lot of wasted time when I only have forty-eight hours total. And it feels like I've already wasted a lot of that. I make a note of visiting hours and decide if I haven't found Charlie by tomorrow morning, I'll be paying her father a visit. Based on the letters I just read, Charlie is closer to her father than anyone. Well, besides the old Silas. And if I don't have a clue where she is, her father is probably one of the few who might. I wonder if he would even agree to meet with me.
I flinch in my seat when the final bell rings, signaling the end of school. I keep the letters separated and put them all neatly inside the backpack. It's the last class period, and I'm hoping The Shrimp will be where I asked her to be.
I'm locked in a room with a boy. The room is tiny and it smells like bleach. Tinier even than the room I was in before I fell asleep. I don't remember waking up and being moved, but here I am, and let's be honest--I don't remember a whole lot lately. He's sitting on the floor with his back against the wall, and his knees spread apart. I watch as he tilts his head back and belts out the chorus to Oh Cecelia.
He's pretty hot.
"Oh my god," I say. "If we're going to be locked in here, can you at least sing something good?"
I don't know where that came from. I don't even know this boy. He finishes, punctuating the last word with a really off-key eh-eh-eh-eh. It's then that I realize that I not only recognize the song he's singing but also know the lyrics. Things change, and suddenly I'm not the girl anymore. I'm watching the girl watch the boy.
I'm dreaming.
"I'm hungry," she says.
He lifts his hips off the ground and digs around in his pocket. When he pulls out his hand, he's holding a lifesaver.
"You're such a lifesaver," she says, taking it from him. She kicks his foot, and he grins at her.
"How come you're not mad at me?" he asks.
"For what? Ruining our night by making us miss the concert so you could make out with me in a broom closet? Why the hell would I be mad?" She makes a show of slipping the mint between her lips. "Do you think they'll hear us in here when the co
ncert's over?"
"I hope so. Or you'll get really hangry and be mean to me all night."
She laughs, and then they're both smiling at each other like idiots. I can hear the music playing. It's something slower this time. They got locked in here making out. Very cute. I feel envious.
She crawls over to him, and he lowers his legs to accommodate her. When she's straddling him, he runs his hands up and down her back. She's wearing a purple dress and black boots. A couple of grimy mops and a giant yellow bucket are propped next to them.
"I promise this won't happen when we see One Direction," he says seriously.
"You hate One Direction."
"Yeah, but I guess I have to make this up to you. Be a good boyfriend and such." His hands tease the exposed skin on her legs. He makes a walking motion up her thigh with his fingers. I can almost feel the goose bumps for her.
She throws back her head this time and starts to sing a One Direction song. It clashes with the music playing behind them, and she's a worse singer than he is.
"Oh god," he says, covering her mouth. "I love you, but no." He pulls his hand away, and she grabs it back to kiss his palm.
"Yeah you do. I love you back."
It's when they kiss that I wake up. I feel intense disappointment. I lie very still, hoping to fall asleep again so I can see what happens to them. I need to know if they got out in time to see The Vamps play at least one song. Or if he kept his word and took her to One Direction. Their togetherness has made me feel so incredibly lonely that I bury my face in the pillow and cry. I liked their stuffy little room better than mine. I begin to hum out the tune of the song that was playing, and then I suddenly bolt upright in bed.
They did get out. During intermission. I can hear his laughter and see the confusion on the face of the janitor who opened the door for them. How do I know that? How can I see something that never happened? Unless...
That wasn't a dream. It happened.
To me.
Oh my god. That girl was me.
I reach up to touch my face, smiling a little. He loved me. He was so...full of life. I lie back down, wondering what happened to him and if he's the reason I'm here. Why hasn't he come to find me? Can a person forget that kind of love?
And how exactly did my life go from that...to this nightmare?
School has been out for over fifteen minutes. The hallway is empty, yet here I stand, still waiting for The Shrimp to show up. I'm not sure what I would even ask her if she did show up. I just got a feeling when I saw her--a feeling that she was hiding something. Maybe it's something she doesn't even realize she's hiding, but I want to find out what she knows. Why she hates Charlie so much. Why she hates me so much.
My phone rings. My father again. I press ignore, but then see that I've somehow missed a few texts. I open them, but none are from Charlie. Not that they could be, since I have her phone. I've simply accepted the fact that I still have a little bit of hope that this is all a joke. That she'll either call or text or show up to laugh about it.
The most recent text is from Landon.
Get your ass to practice. I'm not covering for you again, and we have a game in three hours.
I have no idea what move will be the most efficient use of my time. Surely practice won't be, considering I couldn't care less about football right now. But if practice is where I normally am at this hour, I should probably be there in case Charlie shows up. After all, everyone seems to think she'll be at the game tonight. And since I don't know where else to look or what else to do, I guess I'll look for her there. Doesn't look like The Shrimp agreed to my request, anyway.
I finally locate the locker rooms, and I'm relieved to find them empty. Everyone else is out on the field, so I use the privacy to search for the box I wrote about in the letters to myself. When I locate it at the top of the locker, I pull it down and take a seat on the bench, lifting the lid.
I flip quickly through the pictures. Our first kiss. Our first fight. Where we met. I finally get to a letter at the bottom of the box. Across the top is Charlie's name, written in the handwriting I've come to recognize as my own.
I look around to ensure I still have complete privacy, and then I unfold the letter.
It's dated last week. Just one day before we lost our memories for the first time.
Charlie,
Well, I guess this is it. The end of us. The end of Charlie and Silas.
At least it didn't come as a surprise. We've both known, since the day your father was sentenced, that we wouldn't be able to move past that. You blame my father, I blame yours. They blame each other. Our mothers, who used to be best friends, won't even speak each other's names out loud.
But hey, at least we tried, right? We tried hard, but when two families are torn apart like ours were, it's a little difficult to look ahead at the future we could possibly have and actually be excited about it.
Yesterday, when you approached me about Avril, I denied it. You accepted my denial, because you know I never lie to you. Somehow, you've always seemed to know what's going on in my head before I even do, so you never question whether or not I'm telling the truth, because you already know.
And that's what bothers me, because you so easily accepted my lie, when I know you know it's true. And that leads me to believe that I was right. You aren't seeing Brian because you like him. You aren't seeing him behind my back to get revenge on me. The only reason you're with him is because you're trying to punish yourself. And you accepted my lie, because if you broke up with me, it would relieve you of your guilt.
You don't want to be relieved of your guilt. Your guilt is your way of punishing yourself for your recent behavior, and without it, you won't be able to treat people the way you've been treating them.
I know this about you, because me and you, Charlie? We're the same. No matter how tough you've been trying to act lately, I know that deep down you have a heart that bleeds in the presence of injustice. I know that every time you lash out at someone, it makes you cringe inside. But you do it because you think you have to. Because your father is manipulating you into believing that if you're vindictive enough, people won't touch you.
You told me once that too much good in a person's life will stunt their growth. You said pain is necessary, because in order for a person to succeed, they must first learn to conquer adversity. And that's what you do...you deliver adversity where you see fit. Maybe you do it to gain respect. To intimidate. Whatever your reasons, I can't do this anymore. I can't watch you tear people down in order to build yourself up.
I'd rather love you at the bottom than despise you at the top.
It doesn't have to be this way, Charlie. You're allowed to love me, despite what your father says. You're allowed to be happy. What you can't allow is for negativity to choke you until we no longer breathe the same air.
I want you to stop seeing Brian. But I also want you to stop seeing me. I want you to stop trying to find a way to free your father. I want you to stop allowing him to mislead you. I want you to stop resenting me every time I defend my own father.
You act one way in front of everyone else, but at night when I'm on the phone with you, I get the real Charlie. It's going to be absolute torture not dialing your number and hearing your voice before I go to sleep each night, but I can't do this anymore. I can't only love that part of you--the real part of you. I want to love you when I talk to you at night and I also want to love you when I see you during the day, but you're beginning to show two different sides of yourself.
And I only like one of those sides.
As much as I try, I can't possibly imagine how hurt you must be since your father went away. But you can't let that change who you are. Please stop caring about what other people think. Stop allowing your father's actions to define you. Figure out what you did with the Charlie I fell in love with. And when you find her, I'll be here. I told you before I'll never stop loving you. I'll never forget what we have.
But lately, it seems that you've forgott
en.
I've enclosed some pictures I want you to go through. Hopefully they'll help remind you of what we could have again someday. A love that wasn't dictated by our parents or defined by our family status. A love we couldn't stop if we tried. A love that got us through some of the hardest moments of our lives.
Never forget, Charlie.
Never stop.
~Silas
"Silas, Coach wants you suited up and on the field in five."
I sit up straight at the sound of the voice. I'm not at all surprised that I don't recognize the guy standing in the doorway to the locker room, but I nod as if I do. I begin shoving all the pictures and the letter from the box into the backpack, stowing it away in my locker.
I was going to break up with her.
I wonder if I did break up with her? I still have the letter, though. It was written the day before we lost our memories. Our relationship was obviously on a rapid decline. Maybe I gave her the box and she read the letter and then gave it back to me?
Endless possibilities and theories plague my mind as I attempt to put on the football gear. I end up having to Google how to do it on my phone. Ten minutes have easily passed by the time I'm dressed and walking onto the field. Landon is the first to notice me. He breaks formation and jogs in my direction. He puts his hands on my shoulders and leans in.
"I'm tired of covering for you. Get whatever shit is screwing up your head out of there. You need to focus, Silas. This game is important, and Dad will be pissed if you blow it."
He releases my shoulders and jogs back onto the field. The guys are all lined up, doing what looks like a whole lot of nothing. Some of them are passing footballs back and forth. Others are sitting in the grass, stretching. I take a seat in the grass next to where Landon has just plopped down, and I begin to mock his movements.
I like him. I can only recall two conversations we've had in our life, and they've both consisted of Landon spitting some sort of direction at me. I know I'm the older brother, but he seems to act like I treat him with respect. We had to have been close. I can tell by the way he's looking at me that he's suspicious of my behavior. He knows me well enough to know something is up.