Chapter Five

Charlie's world was plummeting into chaos. She loathed having too many balls in the air because at any moment, one was going to fall like lead, straight onto her face. Today, she had the gnawing sensation that she'd forgotten something pressing, but as she drove quickly from her afternoon teaching gig back to her apartment, her brain was too scattered to land on just what. All she knew was that she had a very important departmental cocktail hour the next evening and absolutely nothing suitable to wear. She'd need a dress, and not one of the same two she'd already worn to these things countless times in the past. She killed her engine when her phone vibrated.

Are we still doing today? After five and no you.

Oh fuck. Taryn. No, no, no. That was the thing she'd missed. They'd decided to put off dinner until next time but were supposed to check out the walking trails at Jameson Park, and her overcrowded brain had blanked.

Sooooo sorry. Any chance you'd want to shop instead?

It was the best Charlie could offer without canceling on her entirely, which she didn't want to do. She'd actually been really looking forward to seeing Taryn again, a bright spot on her week's agenda. They'd had such a fun time at the coffee shop the week prior.

Grocery?

Dress. The cocktail variety.

The dots danced while Charlie waited. Um. Really bad at that. Never really been a dress wearing kind of girl.

Dress would be for me.

She touched her forehead and exhaled, attempting to slow down. Tame the chaos. Moving through her day so quickly was what caused her to blank on Taryn in the first place. Get it together. The good news was that the hard part of her day was done, the lecture that had her on edge was now over, and she could just coast with Taryn, her new/old friend. Decided, she thought with an exhale. She would chill the hell out and coast.

When Taryn didn't immediately answer, Charlie hit the call button and decided to give her an out. "You don't have to come," she said immediately. "But I have an event tomorrow and nothing to wear. A true emergency."

"I think I get it now," Taryn said. She had such a smooth voice with the tiniest rasp. It sent a tingle to Charlie's ear, leaving her a little drunk. "This is an elbow-rubbing English department dress." A pause. "I mean, I could try to help."

"Really? You'd be down? I could definitely use a second opinion."

"Well. Don't get too excited. Let's take me to a store and see what happens."

"A mall. We're headed to an actual mall." Charlie smiled into her phone. "And that's what I was hoping you would say."

A quiet laugh. "I don't like to disappoint."

Why did Charlie break out in goose bumps after that statement? Why did she want Taryn to say it again? She eased herself out of it. "Get over here. Now. I'll drop a pin and my address."

Taryn laughed. "Yeah, yeah. On my way."

Ten minutes later, and they were driving together in Charlie's Nissan Rogue to the nearest department store with the meager remnants of her checking account and Taryn on music duty. Apparently, she wasn't having much success. As the station flipped for the sixth time, Charlie turned to her. "I feel like you're hard to please over there, or you're just determined to torture me because I'm making you shop."

Caught, Taryn's brown eyes went wide. They seemed extra vibrant today, highlighted by the gold knit top she wore beneath her black leather bomber jacket. Her dark hair was down but had a few waves today, which made Charlie imagine that's what her hair did when she chose not to blow dry, which she should definitely do more often. The untamed look worked on her. "I'm so choosy about music."

"I'm gonna make the leap that you're choosy about everything," Charlie said. "I haven't forgotten your coffee opinions."

Taryn's cheeks went rosy in a cute display. "I think you're roasting me."

"Is that a coffee riff?"

"Like I would miss this opportunity," Taryn said, pleased with herself. They were at a red light, which meant Charlie didn't have to tear her eyes away.

"I'm affectionately doing just that. Yeah." She relaxed. "What kind of music do you like?"

Taryn sat taller and abandoned the station flipping, invested in the conversation now. "That's the thing. I'm all over the map. My grandparents had me hooked on James Taylor as a kid. My parents blasted Motown in an unlikely matchup, but I was into it. I was just as die-hard for local emo bands as a teenager. Some of the Top 40 work for me. Rap, if it's good."

"Eclectic." The light turned and Charlie pressed the gas.

"I'm currently living in the highlights from practically any era, hanging out with what was popular at different points in time." Taryn shook her head. "I'm easily influenced, but when all is said and done, I love the one girl and a guitar vibe. It's my current go-to."

"Really? You're an old soul, Taryn Ross."

"I'm taking that as a compliment even if it wasn't meant to be."

"Except it was," Charlie said sincerely and pulled the car into a spot near the front door of Carrington's. "Hopefully, we can be in and out quick."

"What do you need from me?" Taryn asked with honestly the most sincere eyes. She clearly wanted to make sure she did the best job possible, which was sweet.

"How about your honest opinion? Tell me which dress makes me looks like someone impressive, yet also personable enough over a glass of white wine."

Taryn slowed her pace, processing the task. "That's incredibly specific, but yeah, I think I'm up for it."

Charlie laughed and looped her arm through Taryn's. "I know you are."

They moved through the racks, Taryn offered up her choices, and Charlie collected a few dresses of her own. It turned out, Taryn had quite the eye. Once Charlie was inside the dressing room on her own, it was Taryn's contributions to the pile that truly stood out. Charlie turned to the side wearing a turquoise fit and flare and realized it was a definite contender. It was the fourth dress she'd tried on, and it made her feel pretty and smart, a combination that had always worked well for her. She opened the door and walked to the sitting area that offered a full-length mirror.

"I think I really like this one," she said to Taryn, who was seated quietly on one of the couches. Charlie smoothed the fabric and regarded herself in the mirror. "What do you think?"

Taryn stared for a moment before opening her mouth and closing it again. "It's a beautiful dress." She swallowed. "Buy it. Whatever it costs."

Charlie laughed. "That's quite an endorsement." She turned to the side. "Do you think it's giving too much boob access?"

"No," Taryn said without delay. "I don't."

Another laugh. She turned to Taryn, whose eyes had gone wide. "Again, you know what you like."

"Yeah," Taryn said. "I guess I do."

Charlie felt warm with Taryn's gaze on her like that. She was suddenly a little self-conscious and aware of her own skin. Weird, and honestly a little embarrassing. "Wow. It's like they're running the heat pretty high in here," she said, looking up at the vents as a means of deflecting attention from what felt like a strange moment. She had no definition for what she'd just experienced, either. A passing few seconds in which Charlie felt like she'd floated right out of herself.

"Right? Not just me then," Taryn said, standing and rolling her shoulders.

"No, not just you." Charlie added a laugh to fill the unexplainable space. Her eyes connected with Taryn's, and just like that, she felt like herself again. "I think I'm going to take this one."

"There really is no other choice." Taryn ran a hand through her hair. The action rearranged where her part fell, giving her a very sexy edge. What a difference a mindless flip could make. Taryn executed it expertly.

"What are you staring at?" Taryn asked. She looked behind her.

"The way you flipped your hair just now made you look like a rock star. One little gesture and you changed your whole look." As she passed Taryn on her way back to the dressing room, she gave her hair a playful tug. "There has to be an analogy for life in there somewhere."

"What's the thing my mom used to say about my dad's stroke? Things can change on a dime."

Charlie paused in the doorway of the small dressing room, the concept loosening a memory. "Isn't that the damn truth? When I was nine, my family was having spaghetti and meatballs for dinner. My absolute favorite. I had been excited all day waiting for my mom to call us to dinner." Taryn smiled at that. "My mom served me my helping, which I remember being very generous, several meatballs. She knew how much I adored spaghetti. Just on cloud nine, I reached for the Parmesan cheese and knocked my glass of milk over in the process. It spilled all over my plate and some onto my father's. He backhanded me so fast I didn't even see it coming. Didn't realize it had happened until I found myself on the floor stunned. A total one-eighty moment. Like you described." The room was silent. Charlie realized her mistake. "Changed on a dime," she said with a lot less volume.

Taryn blinked at her, sadness and shock crisscrossing her face. "Charlie," she said quietly after a moment.

Oh fuck. Why'd she have to go and do that? They were having a nice time, and bam, she'd just served up a memory she'd long since tucked away. Embarrassing. She scrambled for a smile to save the mood. "I know. Pretty awful story." She shook her head, amazed that the whole thing had just tumbled out of her mouth. "I have no idea why I decided to share that, but here we are. Tell you what. Let's move on. Dresses! Yay!" She tossed in a laugh. Taryn didn't join her.

"Were you okay?"

"That time?" She scanned her history. "Um, actually, no. My jaw was fractured, and eating was an ordeal for a few weeks. All good now. Leagues better. Not as big a meatball fan anymore, though."

Two women entered the dressing room in a flurry of energetic conversation, which put an end to theirs. They stared at each other, solemn and stuck in the aftermath of the exchange for a couple of long moments. "Anyway," Charlie said with a shrug. "Things can certainly change on a dime. Even this conversation."

She paid for the dress she wouldn't have even tried on if it wasn't for Taryn, and they began to walk the length of the mall in silence. A cloud hung over them that Charlie wasn't sure how to remedy. Finally, Taryn looked over at her, her eyes big and melancholy. "I remember your father. He always seemed like such a nice guy, almost jolly. Everyone loved him. He'd come over for beers with my dad after work."

"I remember that, too." Charlie reflected back on the days when her dad was still living with them. "He was incredibly charming. And manipulative. It's why he sold so many cars. I'm not surprised your dad liked him so much. He was good at fooling the world. Hell, even my mom fell for his act at first."

"Forgive me for being in awful amazement right now. I'm looking back on everything differently."

Charlie turned to her. "Well, don't look at me differently."

"I wouldn't."

"Good. Because I'm far past those days and not looking back." It was an optimistic statement because Charlie was aware of the effects her childhood still had on her outlook and behavior. She didn't let herself reach for too much because she was confident it would be taken away. And when she finally did grab hold of something wonderful, it wasn't out of her character to self-sabotage or decide she didn't deserve it. Charlie was a work in progress. Years of therapy had helped until she finally decided she needed a break.

"Here's the thing. I don't want you to get caught up in my less-than-ideal childhood. I'm okay. See?" She brightened into a grin that she hoped conveyed her current mental health, which definitely resided in the just fine column.

Taryn's expression didn't follow her lead. "I'm a little pissed off on your behalf. Are they still together?"

"My parents? No. I lost my mom to stage four cancer a few years ago."

"Charlie. I'm going on about my dad's stroke and you didn't say a word."

"It's not my favorite topic." She nodded as they walked. Somehow the movement made diving back into these details easier. She smiled at the memory of her mom, the biggest cheerleader she ever had. "She was my favorite person. The only one I knew I could depend on. Danny's mom was her best friend and has been great to me since Mom died. She's pretty well known, an author. Monica McHenry. Heard of her?"

"I have. The novelist who writes the mysteries." Taryn turned, surprised. "They just did a movie from one of her books."

"That's her. My famous stand-in mom. I'm lucky in that sense."

"And what about your dad?"

"Once we moved to California, everything got worse. My dad's dealership never came to fruition. He was angry about that and choked some guy in a bar, which got him three months in jail. Luckily, the space gave my mom the courage to hire an attorney and get the hell out. My last year of high school was the best ever. My mom and I had so much fun and felt what it was like to just breathe and laugh and relax in our own home, which was this cute little two-bedroom cottage that was perfect for us. I don't have a clue where my dad is now and don't want to know. He could be living it up in Beverly Hills or in a jail in South Carolina. Who the hell knows?"

"God, I hate him now." Taryn was still rigid, her fists balled and tight.

"Come here a sec." Charlie took a moment and pulled them onto a nearby bench to see if she could get their night back on track. She hooked a strand of hair behind her ear. "One thing I've learned about trauma is that sometimes it sneaks back up on you, like it did me in the dressing room back there. The healing isn't exactly linear. I'm sorry for bringing our night down. I hope it won't happen again, but I should warn you that it might."

"No, no, no." Taryn put her hand over Charlie's, which was more comforting than she would have predicted, a surprise anchor in the storm. "Please don't apologize. You don't have a single thing to be sorry for." Her voice was quiet and steady, which made it really easy to believe her.

Charlie nodded, her heart somersaulting. "Thank you. You're right. I know that deep down." No one deserved to be hit or insulted. Yet she still lived with the feeling of embarrassment that came with victim status. She remembered wondering as a child what she had done for her dad to hate her so much. She tried to be more like her friends in elementary school, imagining their dads loved and took care of them because they'd done something right. She thought she could have that, too, if she just tried a little harder. It was ludicrous, looking back now, but at the same time, old habits died hard. To this day Charlie often felt unworthy of love even when she knew she wasn't. It was a mind fuck that kept her moving in circles and hesitant to let others in.

"In fact," Taryn continued, "I'm feeling like a special person right now because you did share that memory with me when you didn't have to. You trusted me, and I want to say thank you for that."

Charlie blinked. That was certainly new. She was used to making other people uncomfortable whenever she mentioned anything too real from life with her dad. Certainly, no one had thanked her before. "You're welcome seems like a strange thing to say back."

"Honestly, you can say whatever you want, and I'll listen." Taryn took her hand and squeezed it. "I've been told I do that kind of thing well."

Charlie looked down at their hands and pulled her gaze back to Taryn's captivating brown eyes. "I've always thought you had the prettiest eyes. They seem lighter these days. Little flecks of gold within the brown."

"Oh yeah?"

"Yeah." Charlie forgot herself in their connection, and wow, Taryn excelled at eye contact. The world felt hazy, slow, and off balance in its wake. The edges of her vision faded. In a strange turn, it seemed like they were the only two people in that mall in spite of the crowds moving busily around them. An oasis if she'd ever found one. Finally, she blinked, looked down, and offered a slight smile, honesty bleeding straight through. "I feel like I know you better than I do. Isn't that weird?"

"Well, you do. We have true history, ya know. You were instrumental in my youth. Probably a lot more than you realize." Taryn seemed to be leaving the details out, but this felt like a confession of her own. Maybe it was just that kind of evening for them.

"You mentioned that at the coffee house. Why is that? Because I gave you lemonade slushies and middle school advice?" It was hard to equate this put-together human with the eleven-year-old from back then. In actuality, both versions were mature for their age, now that she thought about it. Taryn had always been both wise and kind. That hadn't changed.

"No, because you gave me someone to look up to, who also made me feel special and seen. I thought you were just about the best thing since I discovered Sour Patch Kids at six years old."

"First comparison I've ever had to those things. What a day."

"That's odd. I compare them to everything." She regrouped. "But the truth is, I was thrilled every single time I heard you were coming over. Charlotte Adler was cooler than cool, which is why it was such a blow when you moved away so unexpectedly."

Charlie sat with that information for a moment because she'd honestly had no idea. Realizing that she'd had a larger impact than she'd understood relaxed something in her chest. She was both moved and slanted with regret. "I'm so sorry. I would have stayed in touch if I'd known. You must have thought I didn't care, and I promise you, I did."

"Stop. Your life was much bigger than mine back then. Popular, pretty, and good at everything. All my friends wanted to be you. Guys were obsessed with you." Taryn turned to her more fully, energized, and with a smile. "They used to stalk your lifeguard chair. Were you aware of this?"

"Maybe some did." Charlie had relished her social world in high school. It was true. She'd had friends, a job, and all of it had served as a nice escape from the homelife that kept her on the edge of most any chair. "Everything probably looked perfect. I get that." She tilted her head thoughtfully as a toddler raced ahead of his mother, pointing at the mall's Halloween display. "But I think that just goes to show that all that glisters is not gold."

"Quoting Shakespeare. A true writer."

Charlie turned in surprise. "I'm impressed. You knew the quote that quickly?"

Taryn beamed and shrugged. "I like his stuff. We read R and J in high school, but I picked up a few more after."

"Oh, just a little light reading for a high schooler." She shook her head. Taryn continued to offer up surprises. She was this really interesting onion with layer upon layer waiting to be discovered.

"You're maybe one of the only people I know who thinks I'm awesome for reading plays."

She nudged Taryn's shoulder with her own. "Good thing I'm the one sitting next to you, then."

"Speaking of writing, I loved your story. I devoured it that night and then read it a few more times."

Charlie went still. "You did? I hope it wasn't out of some sense of obligation to make me feel better after I confessed what happened in my class."

"I wish I was someone who responded to overhanging obligation. Maybe then I wouldn't procrastinate so much. My grades would be much higher if I subscribed to have to. Which means, in your case, I wanted to."

"I feel better, then." Charlie would have loved to have been cavalier about Taryn's thoughts on her story, but her heart overruled her. "You don't have to be polite about your impressions. I have a pretty thick skin these days."

"But here's the thing. I was truly enraptured, hooked, and annoyed with you because I was supposed to be writing an analysis on a pivotal photographer," Taryn said, a softness coating her voice. Charlie was learning to like the gentle side of her. She was a quieter person, which made her harder to get a read on. But when Taryn melted in the way she just had, Charlie did, too. She had a definite soft spot for this girl, unique in the way it made her feel. "The contrast between the two stories was hugely impactful. The boy. The fire. You wove it with a true seamlessness."

"My peers felt the metaphor between the boy and the fire was heavy-handed."

Taryn blinked. "I couldn't disagree more. I'm not an MFA writing candidate, but is that who you write for at the end of the day? People who set out to find perceived weaknesses, or someone like me who just lets the story wash over them?"

"Well, when you put it that way, you. Most definitely you." She internalized the concept. "This is a valuable reminder that the larger world won't be reading my work with the same fine-tooth comb my classmates do." She exhaled. "I really look forward to an audience shift." She covered her eyes, remembering the stress of those critiques. "That will be such a relief."

Taryn smiled. "Just here to offer a preview. I especially liked the scene where the boy sat with a paintbrush for the first time and learned he could create." She shrugged. "It's a weak comparison, but I've felt exactly the things you described recently."

"Tell me when."

Taryn got a faraway look in her eye, transported. "I picked up a camera at a resale shop earlier in the semester and have taken quite a few shots around campus." She gave her head a shake. "The realization that I'd captured something that hadn't been there moments before really struck me. It was almost like I was meant to read your words. I mean, you illustrated the feeling I had perfectly."

With her gaze locked with Taryn's, the world went still again. She'd never get used to it. She wanted to touch Taryn's cheek, her hair, take her hand. She didn't dare. First of all, this was Taryn, the kid from back home. Emphasis on kid. Second, Taryn was a girl. Third, Charlie had a boyfriend. None of the urges that seemed to be swirling could be given any kind of credence. "I'm so glad." She focused on the conversation, keeping herself in the midst of the topic at hand. No more thoughts of Taryn. "There's a true beauty in the creation of art, isn't there? I'm honored I was able to exemplify the feeling for you."

"Me, too. And I'd love to read more if you're willing to share."

"I just might be if you show me some of your shots in return."

"Okay, but I'm aspiring at best." Taryn blinked, and Charlie caught sight of her long, dark lashes that had no right to be so beautiful. Actually, Taryn herself was. Charlie noticed more and more with each moment they spent together. It made her nervous and vulnerable in a strange sense, and dammit, she was doing it again. But it seemed like Taryn saw every part of her, straight to her soul. Jarring and hard to ignore.

Charlie shifted, off center with butterflies crisscrossing her stomach. Her skin felt sensitive to the touch, and her mind wouldn't obey even the simplest rules. None of this was like her. "I like to support aspiring artists."

"You'd have to go easy on me. I don't know if I'm good or not. But at least my professor seems to think I have an eye. I'm holding on to that compliment, if you couldn't tell."

"I have a feeling your professor is right. When can I see them?"

"Um, are we doing next week?" Taryn asked, keeping to their schedule.

"I don't want to wait until next week." In this moment, she couldn't imagine doing so. The time they were spending together felt like water in a desert.

The sentiment seemed to catch Taryn off guard. She sank into a smile. "Okay. Sooner than that, then."

"I have work at the library tomorrow, but what about the day after? I'm free after four."

"Damn. I have my hours in the photo lab. The darkroom is hard to reserve."

"Then don't lose your slot. I get off at ten tomorrow. You could come over to my place. I usually make a late dinner. Something quick and easy like pasta and chicken marsala."

Taryn nodded, stone-faced. "Yeah, I know when I think quick and dirty dinner, a chicken marsala is always at the top of my list. So basic."

She winced. "I heard it once I said it."

Taryn laughed. "Do you pop in a soufflé for dessert? Beef bourguignon must be saved for the weekend."

Now Charlie was laughing as well, which, after their earlier conversation, helped lighten her mood immensely. "I promise I'm not a culinary elitist, but I have a very savory palate, and anything with wine in the sauce is a warm embrace, okay?"

"I'm that way with cheese, which is why the famous chefs from Kraft always make my macaroni with the utmost care and packaging," Taryn said quite seriously. "I prepare it on medium in the most delightful cooking mechanism called a microwave. I pronounce it mee-cro-wav. I'm not sure if you're familiar."

Charlie tapped her chin with one finger. "Vaguely rings a bell. So, are you coming over or not, weirdo?" Why was Charlie practically holding her breath?

Taryn relaxed back into herself. "For chicken marsala in the middle of the night? Not sure how I could pass up such an opportunity."

Charlie exhaled. "You really can't."

"And I wouldn't want to."

"Done." Charlie lifted her bag. "So let's get out of here and get you back to your homework."

"You still think I'm a child."

Charlie grabbed Taryn by the back of the neck and gave her gentle shake. "Trust me when I say that I don't."