Page 26 of Return to Whitmore
She decided to get them two teeny-tiny rooms in a cheap hotel, side by side and smelling vaguely of mold. But the beds were warm and soft, and there was hot coffee and toast in the morning, and there was a coziness to knowing that her brother was on the other side of the wall, safe and protected. Sometimes at night, she pressed her palm to the wall and said a prayer to protect them both.
Chapter Twelve
December 2001
Alittle more than a month after the documentary film festival, Charlotte brought Jack to Kathy’s for a Christmas celebration. There were nine of them, all of whom either didn’t speak to their parents or couldn’t afford to go home. They called themselves New York City orphans.
Nobody knew Jack was Charlotte’s brother. She introduced “Seth Green” as a new friend, someone she was working on a new documentary project with. Because Charlotte’s sort of new boyfriend Ralph was also there, everyone believed the story. Lately, because Charlotte was so preoccupied with Jack, with discovering what had happened on July 4th, 1998, Charlotte was a difficult person to date and an even more difficult person to get to know, but that made her all the more intriguing for male romantic partners. Ralph was borderline obsessed with her, calling her mysterious and begging her to go out with him more often. Charlotte knew that if she showed more interest in him, he would probably disappear. Such was life when dating men.
Sometimes she thought of Vincent and had to tell herself not to cry.
At Christmas, Jack charmed the socks off everyone. He told stories of his marvelous travels, of the people he’d met, of the things he’d seen. His stories suggested that he’d been everywhere from California to Nigeria, and Charlotte wasn’t sure what to believe. Surely, he didn’t have a passport that said “Seth Green” and therefore couldn’t travel overseas. But who, exactly, was he hiding from?
“Seth is so funny,” Kathy said as Charlotte helped her wash the dishes later that evening. “Was he the guy at the documentary screening? The one asking the questions?”
Charlotte nodded. “Yeah.”
“Crazy way to meet someone.”
Charlotte laughed. “You don’t even know,” she said.
Kathy pressed her for details, demanding more. “You and Seth are living at that hotel together?”
“Separate rooms,” Charlotte said.
Kathy reminded her that she knew of a few apartments around Greenwich Village going for cheap. Charlotte was terrified that the minute she signed a lease, Jack would run out of her life again. Maybe it was a chance she had to take.
Two weeks later, when Charlotte first brought Jack to the apartment a few blocks away from Kathy’s, she stood in the corner with her arms crossed and watched as he walked the halls and surveyed the rooms. She felt as though he were a cat, as though he needed to sniff every area of the space to connect with it. She didn’t want to interrupt him and chase him off.
Was she constantly in fear that he was going to leave her? Again?
“Would you consider living here? With me?” she asked, her voice wavering.
Jack’s smile was enormous. “You kidding me, sis?”
Charlotte’s and Jack’s laughter rocketed from wall to wall. Although it was just two bedrooms and a kitchen and a thousand times smaller than their White Oak Lodge roots, it felt like paradise. It was where they’d start over, where they’d rebuild. Charlotte couldn’t believe she’d ever doubted him.
The bills, of course, were not easy to tackle. With Jack’s fake ID, he was able to secure various gigs as a bouncer, a mover, a fitness instructor (this was their favorite to make fun of), a bartender, and a part-time librarian (his favorite). Charlotte worked freelance as a video editor and shot several local commercials. Together, they stitched together a life that made sense to them.
It made sense only to a point, of course. Jack was still mum about the night of the fire. Sometimes late at night, Jack’s nightmares woke him up, and he screamed. But when Charlotte demanded answers, he pretended not to remember what he’d dreamed about.
Charlotte knew there was so much more where that came from.
But as they went into 2002, they felt more stable than ever, which was saying something. Charlotte agreed to be Ralph’s girlfriend, and Jack began to date a model who barely spoke enough English and couldn’t pronounce “Seth” correctly.
They were happier than they’d been in years, happier than they’d been as teenagers at the White Oak Lodge.
Still, the White Oak Lodge haunted them. How could it not?
It was the summer of 2002 when Jack woke Charlotte up at the crack of dawn and said he’d borrowed a car. “Pack a bag. I want to get out of the city.”
Jack had planned it correctly, taking several different schedules into consideration before he staged his plan. Charlotte didn’t have another gig lined up for over a week, and Ralph was out of town visiting friends in Florida. Jack’s model girlfriendwas considering breaking up with him, which was probably part of the reason he wanted to go. But as they drove out of Manhattan and into the buttercream light of the morning, they could do nothing but sing songs on the radio and laugh.
“I can’t remember the last time I got out of the city,” Charlotte said with a startled laugh.
“Isn’t it wild to breathe that clean air?” Jack asked, opening the windows.
Charlotte filled her lungs and closed her eyes. Once upon a time, in Nantucket, they’d breathed salty and healthy air constantly. They hadn’t thought to notice.
