Page 26 of Pages of My Heart
“Charlie, he’s sleeping and needs his rest. I’ll pass on your regards and tell him to ring you at the garage when he’s back on his feet. Now I must go, dinner will be burning. Good evening.”
Bridget closes the door before he can say anything else, and Charlie is left staring blankly after her, a little unsteady on his feet, swaying like he’s standing on the deck of a boat lost out at sea.
Two days later, Charlie still hadn’t heard a peep from Thomas. He can’t recall a time they’ve gone more than three days without seeing each other in the two years they’ve been together. It’s been five, now, and Charlie is fidgety and anxious, dropping tools at the garage and raising his voice at anyone who tries speaking to him.
The moment he’s off the clock he heads back to the O’Reilly house, determined to find out what’s going on. He bangs on the door this time, his hand fisted and unyielding. When it opens, he’s disappointed to see Michael standing on the other side. Maggie would have been better.
“Charlie.” Michael frowns, eyes not angry, but definitely cold. “What can I do for you?”
“I came to see Tommy. Is he feeling any better? Is he still sick?”
“Unfortunately, he is, and he’s still not taking any visitors. But I’ll tell him you dropped by.”
Michael goes to shut the door but Charlie quickly steps forward and gets a foot over the threshold, preventing him from closing it completely. “Wait! Doesn’t he wanna see me? If he’s sick, I can help look after him, cheer him up. Just let me see him for a few minutes.”
Michael’s eyes narrow with suspicion. “You’re not his steady girl, Charlie. And I think his sisters can care for him perfectly well.”
The words hit Charlie like the blunt force of a punch and he staggers back from the door. “Yeah, that was, uh—that was stupid of me,” he stammers. “Course Bridget and Maggie can look after him. I’ll just—well, I’ll be on my way then.”
Charlie turns and hurries down the front steps, head down and bile lurching up into his throat. What the hell did he just do? Does Michael suspect the truth? Has Thomas told him about them? Surely not. They made a pact they’d never tell a soul, even if they thought someone would keep their secret confidential. He trusts that Thomas has kept his word, but—
He makes it two houses up the street and vomits violently in the gutter.
It’s all too much—not seeing Thomas, not knowing if he’s all right, the possibility of someone knowing their secret. He doubles over and vomits again, but there’s nothing left inside him and his stomach heaves painfully. There’s no one he can tell or talk to about this. No one to advise him. This is a loneliness like no other, and a terrible wave of grief shudders through him. Taking a risk, he starts making his way to his family’s home, praying that his father won’t be there.
When his ma welcomes him in, pressing her cheek to his chest and patting him soothingly on the back, memories of his childhoodflitter across his mind’s eye—sitting in her lap, getting tucked in at night, holding her hand on the walk to school. He misses her and wishes with all his heart that he could confide in her, take her away from this place, save her and be saved. She tells him his father is at the bar and won’t be home until late, so they eat dinner together—him, his ma, Evie, and even Donnie—and though Charlie settles a little and enjoys his mother’s cooking and his brother’s stupid jokes, his body remains tight and ready.
After dinner, he pulls Evie aside and asks if he can speak with her. Donnie is already listening to the radio in the sitting room and their mother is cleaning up in the kitchen, so they slip away to Evie’s bedroom where they won’t be overheard. His sister sits down on her bed, patting the space beside her.
“Out with it, Charlie. What’s wrong?”
Charlie sits, still unsure of what he should say or how. He settles on the simple truth. “It’s Tommy. I ain’t seen him all week, and his family say he’s really ill.”
“What’s wrong with him? Nothing too serious, I hope.”
“That’s just it. They won’t tell me. Like it’s . . . I dunno, like some big fuckin’ secret or somethin’. They won’t even let me in to give my best wishes.”
Evie’s blue eyes widen in concern. “Maybe it’s contagious.”
“Maybe, but they don’t seem too concerned about catching it themselves if that’s the case.” He stands again, too anxious to stay still for long. “What should I do? We had plans for this weekend and . . . he’s my best buddy, Evie. I know it sounds stupid, but I’m worried about him.”
Evie studies him, questions clear in her eyes. Charlie’s heart beats a little faster.
“What about we visit together on Saturday afternoon?” she suggests after a minute. “I’ll bake a cake to take. Surely, they won’t turn us away.”
“Really? You’d do that for me?”
“Course, you silly twit. Plus, he’s my friend too, and now you got me worried. Give me the address and I’ll meet you there at two o’clock.”
On Saturday, Charlie works until noon and then races home to wash up and change before heading off to meet Evie. Having his sister by his side helps ease some of his nerves as they walk up the path to the O’Reilly house, and he remains hopeful that today he might finally get some answers.
Charlie once again lifts his hand to knock on the door that has kept him from Thomas all week, but this time it swings open before he even makes contact, revealing a smiling Maggie standing before them. Exhaling in relief, Charlie mutters a quiet “thank God” under his breath.
“Charlie! Thomas has been asking after you. Come in, come in.” Maggie ushers them inside the foyer.
“Thanks. Uh, this is my sister Evie that you’ve heard me talk about. We, uh, brought a cake,” he adds, gesturing awkwardly with his thumb.
Maggie turns to Evie, practically bouncing with girlish excitement. “Hi, Evie! Gosh, you are so pretty! I’m Maggie, Tom’s youngest sister,” she says all in a rush, taking the cake that Evie passes over. “Thank you for this. It looks delicious!”
