chapter 6
“Sorry ‘bout those guys.”
In his cabin, Charlie smoked a cigarette while sketching something in one of his books. Meanwhile, I was sitting in the corner working on my fifth, very sad attempt to draw a smiley face with decent eyebrows.
I waved him away and began erasing. I thought maybe I should go back to stick figures. “No one should be anymore sorry than they have to be.” I paused, considering the work in front of me. “Well, that’s not true. I feel pretty sorry for this smiley face right now.”
Again I felt Charlie’s smile on me.
“I don’t blame them for hating me. I would, too, if I were them.”
“It’s me they’re sore at.” He rubbed the cigarette butt out on the bottom of his boot.
I looked up. “Can you blame them?”
“Guess not.” He took out a switchblade from his pocket and began sharpening the pencil. I tried to remember which pocket he had put the Wi-Fi card in, but for the life of me, couldn’t. It was then I realized that I hadn’t even batted an eye when I saw him take out the knife and begin working the point of the pencil. It was stupid of me not to be terrified of something that could kill me; I registered the fact in my mind. Yet it didn’t weigh against me—if given the choice, I knew Charlie alone wouldn’t hurt me.
“Where are you from?” I asked
“Why do ya wanna know?”
“Because I’m curious.”
“Curiosity killed the cat.”
“It’s not fair that you can look up almost anything about me, but I know almost nothing about you. Besides, I’m just going to figure it out, anyway. I don’t have to tell you how helpful the Internet can be.”
He sighed. “All over.”
I looked at him and began tapping my fingers. I could wait. And if I couldn’t, I could start listing the names of states, their capitals and cities, both major and minor, across the United States until he grew impatient enough to give it away.
“You’re right.” It wasn’t what I expected to hear him say and I guess my confusion must have shown.
“When you go home…now that I’m a big criminal and all, they’ll be saying all kinds of stuff ‘bout me.”
I shuddered at the thought. “I don’t want to imagine the kinds of things they might be writing about me right now.”
He suddenly burst out laughing and lit another cigarette. “You’re kiddin’ me, right? Your America’s Sweetheart right now—pretty girl, good family, genius smart. The only bad stuff their sayin’ is ‘bout your Dad, ‘cause he’s cursing out the cops.”
I turned my head and cleared my throat, trying to make it sound like a laugh. Of all the information he had given me, I couldn’t get over that he had described me as attractive. Had he actually called me pretty or did the media just describe me that way? Logic suggested that he was just using generalizations, but I still felt myself grow giddy at the idea. Or at least I think I did—that couldn’t have been hope I was feeling, could it?
“I’m not ‘genius smart.’” I used air quotes for emphasis. “I just graduated from high school early.”
He raised a single eyebrow. “An IQ of 136?”
“My Mom rigged those. I’m sure of it.”
He smiled and erased something from the sketch. “I doubt it.”
I turned over my paper and started over. “Hmm…I’ve never heard of ‘all over,’ is that in the Northwest?”
He looked up from his sketch and grinned his Charlie grin. It gave me a flush of happiness to realize I could identify his grin from that of any other.
“You always gotta be such a smart-ass?”
I smiled. “Only when I’ve been abducted against my will.”
His smile fell then and I knew that I’d hit a sore spot. But maybe that was a good thing. Realistically, we shouldn’t have been enjoying each other’s company, laughing at one another, and most especially, feeling so comfortable. While I did feel safe around him and I was certain he wouldn’t allow me to be hurt, I had to remind myself of why I was here and who we were. For the next few days we could be cordial enough, but the fact remained that we were not, and could not be, friends.
“You’re putting me to shame over there, aren’t you?” I tried to peek over the sketchbook, but he shielded it protectively. I went back to drawing a Christmas tree, the only thing I knew how to draw with any symmetry.
My hand sculpted some cliché garland and somewhat circular ornaments. I always thought Mom had been a little disappointed that Robbie and I didn’t really show any natural talent towards art. She never intentionally showed it, of course. But eventually her attempts at art and crafts became collages and a ceaseless end of birdhouses and papier mâché abstractions. Besides, I was more prone to art history, anyway. Mom, who kept scrapbooks of all the museums she ever visited, would adore a talent like Charlie.
I took my paper and slid over next to Charlie. I then immediately scolded myself for liking his scent: clove, soap, and the salt of the sea.
He flipped the sketchbook over so I couldn’t see and took my drawing. Almost immediately he erupted with laughter. It was a sweet and hearty sound, crisp with its musical quality.
“What?” I shrugged. “I told you I couldn’t draw!”
He flipped it over and looked at the smiley face attempt. “You weren’t kiddin’!”
“Ha, ha. Now quit avoiding my question and answer me.”
He stifled his laugher. “What?”
“Where are you from?”
Pausing, he eventually answered, “South Carolina, Georgia, Tennessee…”
“Were you a military kid?”
“No.” The short simplicity of his answer suggested the conversation might be over, but I wasn’t going to let him get away that easy.
“How long were you in prison?”
He hesitated before answering. “Eleven years.”
“So much for learning your lesson?” I tried to laugh.
He only nodded.
“What about your family?” I asked. “What do they think about what you do for a living?”
Immediately I knew by the raw expression on his face that it was the wrong question to ask. His eyes became squinted lines in his face—he was trying to hold something back, my guess was rage.
“Don’t got any,” he said finally.
But I wasn’t going to let that go, either. On a technical level, everyone had to have the minimum of a biological mother and father, and the mystery that was Charlie Hays was only growing with my own personal fascination for him. I suddenly wanted to know everything about him. Why had he moved around so much? What led him to a life of crime? I was sure the marvel of it all would kill me before he would.
“When I first saw you together, I thought you and Ben were brothers.”
He considered this. “We kinda are. All of us are.”
I laughed. “Were you always an orphan before you knew the guys?”
He pulled away from me then. Maybe he could see what I was trying to get out of him. He looked at me quizzically. His eyes seemed as though they were looking for something particular in mine.
“Why are you askin’ so many questions?”
I shrugged. “I don’t know. I think maybe it’s the scientist in me…but it could also be because I’m trying to understand. I’ve never met anyone like you before.”
He laughed. “A criminal, you mean?”
“No. Well, yes…but I also mean you.”
His face became unreadable, completely expressionless. I tried to guess if he was angry at me or just plain annoyed. “I didn’t have an old man and my Ma took off when I was real little.”
I tried chewing over that information. Losing Mom was hard enough, I couldn’t imagine not having at least one of my parents.
“Who took care of you?”
“The state sometimes…”
He smiled at me as if I had been privy to an inside joke. “I’d get bored with the families they’d stick me with and run off after ’while.”
I smiled. “The ‘all over’ makes sense now.”
“See, ya are a genius after all.”
I tagged him in the arm, feeling confident enough to attempt to change the subject.
“So do you guys kidnap people all of the time, or am I your first attempt in this racket?”
He glanced up at me, the corners of his mouth threatening a smile. “This is a trial run. I figure the next one will have to actually be worth some money, not ask so many questions—”
I lost all of my humor and felt myself grow cold. “That isn’t funny.”
“Don’t worry.” He looked me up and down. “You ain’t got any competition.” He laughed, but it was too hollow to have any heart in it.
I also wanted to say something, but he beat me to it. “Yeah, I know it ain’t funny.”
I put my arms over my chest to be defiant, but he just laughed and pushed some of the hair away from my face. I gave in again, laughing along with him while trying to pull together the large mounds of locks. “It’s horrendous, I know. I wish I had a hair-tie. I’d even settle for a rubber band if you have one—”
Suddenly, a hair-tie appeared in Charlie’s hand. More amazingly, it was the same one that had fallen out during our initial struggle. He held it between his thumb and forefinger and dangled it as though it were a delicacy. I held out my hand as he centered it in my palm. The tie was covered in lead and dust, but I was still happy to have it. I closed my fingers around it with only a fraction of Charlie’s hand enclosed within my own. I could hear his breath increase, but for the moment I was focused only on his hand. I saw small scars, some newer than others, with fresh cuts and scrapes on the surface. I felt the lead rubbing off on my skin from the same places where the calluses were at their roughest. And there was a satisfaction in knowing that it wasn’t just ship work that had earned him these hands…
“I can’t believe you found this.” I let go of his hand and set to work pulling up my hair.
He coughed, picked up his sketchbook and started on a new page. My mane was in desperate need of attention and my heart was beating so fast I thought if I didn’t get some distance between us it might combust right there in my chest, so I stood up and went to my bag for my brush. At the bottom of my bag I felt something soft and familiar.
“Oh yes! I forgot all about this!”
I pulled out the fabric from the bag. It was only a t-shirt I had brought along in the likelihood that I spilled something on myself during the road trip and wanted to prevent embarrassment. Still though, it made me ridiculously happy to think I had something of my own here in this strange place. I could even switch shirts and wash my tank top while I wore this one. I inhaled the fabric and smelled the detergent and fabric softener. Instantly it reminded me of home. I wondered if Dad would bother to get any of the laundry done while I was gone. Would one of the neighbors at least show him how the washer and dryer worked? How many episodes of trial and error would it take before he figured out how much soap to use?
I put the shirt back and finally managed to get my hair into a decent ponytail. When I turned back around, Charlie was glancing up at me slightly but put his eyes back down when he caught me looking at him.
“Thanks for this, Charlie.” I sat down on the bed and leaned my head against the wall.
His voice was soft but tight. “You’re welcome.”
“What time is it?” I asked
“Late,” he said finally.
I was enjoying the sound of the pencil against the paper. Charlie increased the intensity in pressure he applied as he sketched away. I took pleasure in the way it took the silence from the room, filling it with the resonance of creation and something more intense than I could describe. Each time the point broke, he didn’t hesitate to sharpen it furiously with the blade and get back to work.
As I listened, I felt my eyelids begin to grow heavy, so I kicked off my sandals and scooted my legs up under me. From the corner of my eye, I watched Charlie work the paper, his brow wrinkled in concentration. I could feel myself smile as I stared, it was as though he was in his own world there; unable to escape until the image did.
“Addie?” A hand was shaking my shoulder. “Hey, Addie?”
My eyes peeled opened and I saw Charlie sitting in front of me. Whatever he was drawing must be done now, because the sketchbook was closed and the pencils put away.
“I’m gonna take off.”
I stretched, “Okay.”
He hesitated and looked over his shoulder. “I’ll be across the hall. Make sure you lock the door and don’t go nowhere.”
I closed my eyes and think I might have nodded a bit. Truthfully though, I was only concerned with the potential of going back to sleep. “Yeah, got it.”
I felt him smile through my closed eyelids and saw the lamp go dim. When everything went dark, a blanket was placed over my shoulders and I snuggled deep into its folds.