Page 43 of When the Night is Over

Chapter Fifteen

Charlotte

“How far along are you?”

My aunt wears her gray hair in a braid that reaches the middle of her back, and she dresses like a cross between Pocahontas and a folksinger circa 1968. She wears a Native American style poncho, a long flowy skirt and earthy-looking sandals. Several beaded bracelets circle one wrist, and a cigarette dangles from the fingers of her other hand.

Christian just asked her where to leave my bag without saying hello first, and Janelle is busy ignoring him, looking me over from head to toe instead.

“Seven weeks.”

Janelle nods and takes a long drag off her cigarette before stubbing it out on a plate. She looks in Christian’s general direction but not at him. “Put it upstairs, last door on the left.” Janelle’s lack of interest in getting to know her nephew is beyond odd, and I figure this doesn’t bode well for me.

We stand in silence as we wait for Christian to come back down, listening awkwardly as the heavy stream of his urine hits the bowl and the toilet flushes. I notice the faucet never turns on to indicate that he’s washed his hands, and his lack of manners embarrasses me in front of this stranger. Christian, vulgar and unashamed as per usual, is still zipping his fly when he hits the bottom stair.

He looks to my aunt, lifting his chin. “I’ll be heading out now.”

She stands back, nodding once.

He turns to me then, shaking his head and smirking. Palm up, he demands, “Give me your phone.”

“What? It’s mine…I paid for it.” My plea is whispered even though I’m itching to scream out in protest.

He reaches around me and snatches it out of my back pocket before I can react. “Be good, Charlotte.”

God help me, but I wish a fiery car crash, a flesh eating disease, or death by a pack of crazed pit bulls on my hateful excuse for a brother. I hate him for the years of indifference, for the cruel comments he’s directed my way, and I hate him for leaving me here with this cold woman.

And then there were two.

As we stand there staring at each other in silence, I wonder if Janelle is fixing on going the duration of my stay without actually speaking to me.

The standoff ends when she crosses the room, turning the lock once Christian is good and gone. “You should get on up to bed now,” she says, surprising me when I take in her soft smile. “You’ve had a long drive. Tomorrow you and I will sit. Don’t worry,” she adds, “we’ll get this all figured out.”

I’m sure my mouth hangs wide open before I have the sense to reply, “Yes, ma’am.”

I attribute this sudden onset of morning sickness to my new surroundings rather than pregnancy.

“Ginger ale is in the fridge, I’ll get you some crackers.” Handing me the crackers and gesturing with her head, she says, “Head on out to the deck and try to eat a little bit. I’m a caffeine junkie, can’t start my day without it. I imagine the smell will turn your stomach right now, though.”

When we arrived last night it was dark and I was shell-shocked, so this is the first time I take notice of my surroundings. Janelle’s small kitchen is all knotted pine with homey accents. I notice a glass-domed cake plate with scones on it, plaid curtains that match the cushions on the chairs, around a dozen cookbooks lined up neatly on a shelf, and a sign hanging above the window that reads:Lord, give me COFFEE for the things I can change, and WINE for the things I cannot.But nothing could prepare me for what I see when I approach the screen door. Stepping outside, my eyes go wide as I take in the expanse of water. The sun is dancing off the small ripples formed by a passing rowboat, and the man in the boat pauses his rowing for a moment to wave to me. I wave back on instinct then retreat from the railing, flopping into a deck chair. The beauty of this place leaves me awestruck, my upset stomach forgotten.

“I take it you like the water?” Janelle asks, a chuckle escaping as she takes in my expression.

“I-I guess so.”

“Lake Superior,” she says as she settles into the chair next to mine, sipping on her coffee. A few moments later she says, “Do you know I haven’t heard from your father in nearly ten years?” I steal a quick look her way, unsure of whether the question is meant to be rhetorical or not. “Then I get a call from him two days ago,tellingme you’re coming to stay with me, not asking me.”

“I’m sorry.”

She shakes her head. “Nothing for you to be sorry about. That brother of yours looks like him…Acts just like him too.” Janelle looks out over the lake again. “So, what are we going to do about this?” She continues like she’s not expecting any input from me. “Your daddy instructed me to take you somewhere and get this taken care of. I assume he was suggesting an abortion. Not man enough to say the word, I guess.” She raises her cup and blows on the drink to cool it. “Is that what you want?”

“No! I mean…I don’t know.”

“We’ll have a hell of a time finding a provider up here if that’s what you decide to do.” I rub at my eyes, feeling so very alone in all this. “Let’s leave the decisions for later,” she says, shaking her head. “First things first. We’re taking a ride into town later so we can get you registered for school.”

“I’m going to school here?”

“Did you even speak to your daddy before you got in that car yesterday?”

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