Page 64 of Survive the Night

At the sink, Marge dribbles some more seltzer on the coat and resumes dabbing at it. “What’s your name, sweetie?”

“Charlie.”

“Charlie?” Marge says, not even trying to hide her surprise. “I’ve met a lot of Charlies in my day, but none of them looked like you. Family name?”

“Kind of,” Charlie says.

“That’s nice. Family’s important. It’s everything, if you ask me.”

Marge pauses, seemingly reluctant to say what else is on her mind, which Charlie assumes to be a first. The waitress doesn’t strike her as someone who holds back or minces words.

“Listen, Charlie, I know I should mind my own damn business, but is everything okay? I saw you out there with your friend, and you seemed, well, a little distressed.”

“Little” is the only part of the sentence that surprises Charlie. She’s alotdistressed, especially in her current state of being perched on the razor’s edge between fear and anger. That’s another surprise—how mad she got at the table. It was a new feeling for her. Since Maddy died, she’d only been mad at herself.

But Josh has certainly earned her ire, even though she’s also scared shitless in his presence, terrified by what he’s done and what he still might do. Charlie never knew one could be both furious and frightened at the same time. Now she does, and the result is what Marge saw back at the table.

Distress.

“Like I said, it’s none of my business, but is he—” Marge pauses, trying to be delicate. “Is he treating you okay?”

Charlie knows she could—and should—tell her about Josh.Marge would believe her. Watching the waitress furiously dab at her coat, worry wrinkles joining her regular ones, Charlie begins to doubt the spill at the table was an accident. Marge is a pro, and that was a rookie mistake. It’s more likely she saw Charlie looking distressed, got worried for her, and devised a way to get them alone. Now that they are, all Charlie needs to do is tell her what’s going on, ask to use the diner’s phone, and call the police without Josh ever knowing a thing. Then this long, horrible night will be over.

But it might already be over. It all depends on if Josh is serious about leaving her behind. Charlie doubts he is. Josh has been dishonest all night. Why stop now? Either way, it doesn’t mean she should get Marge involved. Doing so might make things worse. If Josh isn’t planning on leaving her behind and does get wind that Charlie told Marge about her suspicions, it could put both of them in danger.

Charlie doesn’t want that. Marge is a good person. Aniceperson. And nice people shouldn’t be mixed up in what she’s going through.

“I’m just tired,” she says. “It’s been a long drive.”

“I understand,” Marge says. “Especially this time of night. All I’m saying is, you’re welcome to stay here awhile. If you don’t feel safe with him.”

“I’m fine,” Charlie says. “Really.”

Marge gives the coat two more dabs before studying the result. “Well, I’ll be damned. Looks like the club soda worked.”

She holds up the coat, revealing only a wet patch where the tea stain had been. Handing it back to Charlie, she says, “Give it a little while to dry and it should look like new.”

Charlie examines the wet spot. The wool there is now pilled slightly and specked with bits of lint from the washcloth, but she’s okay with that. Maddy would have said it added character.

Marge pauses by the door. “I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable with all those questions.”

“I know. And you didn’t. Everything’s fine.”

“I was just looking out for you,” Marge says. “Women need to do that, you know. Look out for each other. There’s a special place in hell for those who don’t.”

“I appreciate it,” Charlie says. “I really do. But I’m doing great. Thank you for cleaning my coat.”

Marge nods and slips out of the bathroom. “Anytime, sweetie.”

Left alone, Charlie slips into the coat and stares at her reflection in the bathroom mirror, shocked by how pale she looks. Like Greta Garbo. That’s another one of Nana Norma’s sayings.You’re as pale as Garbo.

In this case, it’s true, although it looked good on an icy beauty like Greta Garbo. Charlie just looks sickly, as if she’s going to pass out. She assumes that’s because she is. Her legs are weak and wobbly, and her vision comes in and out of focus, thanks to the tears. Charlie wouldn’t be surprised if, at any second, she crumpled to the floor. Considering the night she’s having, who could blame her?

Staring at the ghost of who she had once been, Charlie assures herself she did the right thing by not telling Marge the truth about Josh. It’s better this way. Now only one of them is in danger.

She also knows it’s a lie. Just like thinking that no one will believe her if she tried to get help. Or that Josh will charm and fib his way out of it. Or that he has no intention of leaving without her, despite flat-out stating he does.

They’re all lies.

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