Page 8 of Charlie
“We all are. My time is just coming sooner. Or at least, so my doctors tell me, but I’m not convinced.” He didn’t stay to elaborate but walked out. When the closing of the door clicked behind me, I moved forward and picked up the book on the bed. A bookmark stuck out on top, marking where Robertson wanted me to read from. My hands were shaking when I opened it.
December 16th.
I ran into her again tonight. Charlie from the coffee shop.
She was standing with some of her friends outside Lucy’s Bar. One of them was smoking and they were tipsy.
It surprised me that she called out to me because it’s been over a month since that awkward meeting at the coffee bar. It’s stupid how much I’ve thought about her and all the witty things I wished I’d said to her that day. Twice, I’ve seen her on campus and both times she smiled at me, but I was so stressed about the pep-talk in my head to go and talk to her, that she was gone before I mustered as much as a smile. I’ve been so certain that by now she would have categorized me as either stuck-up and arrogant or a complete basket case.
That’s why I was surprised when she called out to me.
She’s gorgeous! I mean, even wearing a red nose and a hairband with reindeer horns sticking straight up, she looked stunning. As always, I’ll try to write everything down as detailed as I remember it.
I was alone, sober, and on my way home, but I stopped and took in her outfit, which matched what her friends were wearing.
“Ugly Christmas sweater theme,” she told me and pulled at the red and green knitted sweater she was wearing with the text “Jolly AF” on her front. And then she introduced me to her three friends. “Everyone, this is Charlie, my name twin.”
One of the three nodded and grinned. “Ah, the one whose coffee you poisoned with your toxic lips.”
It made me want to turn on my heel and leave because, yeah, I’m the idiot who said I’d throw away the lid of my cup after she took a sip, but Charlie just laughed it off and introduced me, “These are my friends, Sydney, Alicia, and Maggi.”
The woman she had introduced as Maggi swayed a little and grinned. “You look way too serious and sober on a Saturday night. It’s December. You should be celebrating.”
Alicia lit up and tapped Maggie on the arm with eagerness. “You know that thing we talked about earlier. The ugly Christmas sweater competition. He should be our ref and decide which sweater is the ugliest.”
I stiffened. I have a hard time talking to one pretty girl and right there I had four wanting me to engage with them.
Sydney, a young woman with an impressive afro, pointed to her sweater. “What do you think?” It was dark green with white patterns on the front and it said “Merry Elfin Christmas.”
“Mine is better, wouldn’t you say?” Alicia, who was another dark beauty, came over to place her hand on my shoulder. Her sweater had two snowmen with carrot noses made of orange fabric sticking out prominently from her breasts.
Feeling uncomfortable with her touch, I moved a little and looked at Maggie’s shirt. She was the shortest of Charlie’s friends but compensated with high heels and a large bun on her head. Her sweater was blue with a train that said “Bipolar Express.”
Charlie spread out her arms and grinned. “It’s a tough call, isn’t it?”
“Yes. Am I judging the craftwork of the sweater, the absurdity of it, the fit, the colors, or the creativity? I mean what criteria should I base this important ruling on?”
“Just pick mine. It’s the only one in 3D,” Alicia begged and pointed to the carrots sticking out.
I picked Charlie’s, simply because her smile warmed me to the bone. That made Maggie swing a hand through the air and boo at me. “Sober people can’t make important decisions like that. You need to be at least a little drunk to appreciate the humor behind these masterpieces.”
“Yeah… honestly,” Sydney complained.
“Don’t listen to them, they’re sore losers.” Charlie gave me a beaming smile that could have melted all the snow in the entire street. But then her friends wanted to go back inside to dance.
“Let’s move, ladies.” Maggie with the high bun flicked her cigarette butt into a snowbank and moved to the entrance, where loud music was booming.
“You wanna come bust some moves with us?” Charlie asked me as her friends were dancing up against a bouncer who waved them back inside.
The idea of dancing with her and potentially touching her was exhilarating, but I was stone sober and too fucking aware that I wasn’t going to impress her with my dance moves, unless swaying from side to side counts, so I excused myself saying, “Ehh… I can’t tonight.”
Maybe it was the flash of disappointment on her face that made me burst out, “About that day in the coffee shop.”
“Yeah?”
“Remember how you asked if I winked at you? I didn’t wink on purpose. It’s my… It’s my Tourette’s.”
Her eyes widened. “You have Tourette’s?”
